"Those at the top of the organizational hierarchy liked him because he had an ability to successfully interface with people beyond the circle of the mob without scaring the pants off them. On the outside he was suave, good looking, impeccably dressed and gentlemanly. On the inside Roselli was like a rattlesnake in a box. You should always think twice before sticking your hand in it."
Johnny Roselli, also sometimes John Roselli and/or Rosselli, was a high ranking member of organized crime, also referred to as the mob, the Mafia, the syndicate, the outfit, and any number of other names and titles. Call it what you will, Roselli was an integral part of it all most of his life, from a young teenage boy in the 1920s to his ultimate demise under their aegis in 1976. Even though he was never a don in the classical sense, he carried a huge amount of sway, influence and stature ahead of himself in the mob, most certainly well beyond his made-man status. His position was totally different and unusual in the organization, a role that did not exist before him and that has not been duplicated since.
Another thing about Roselli that was different, at least in my esteem and how it applies to what is written here, is that I knew him personally, having met Roselli for the first time before I was even ten years old, and maintaining that knowing him on a first name basis for nearly three decades. So said, in that I originally met Roselli on the innocent side as a young boy, that is, outside of any mob affiliation or need, and maintained that relationship up through adulthood, our association and my access to him was on a different level than most.
Friend or not, depending on where you were on the totem pole, Roselli included, with someone like Roselli the process was always simple, basically tit-for-tat. In the chain of things Roselli would be expected to respond the same from those above him as those below him would be expected to respond to him. You ask him for something, he expects, at least some point in time, something in return. However, because of a certain code (at least how it was in those days) whatever is asked of you in return it is never something beyond your station in life to act on. A thief or burglar might be asked to steal or a killer may be asked to kill, but for someone in my station in life, for example, would never be asked or expected to perform or do something beyond one's ability or experience to do so. Once ensnared and not to comply however, for anybody, there would be consequences, most often as not, not always palatable.
Because of me being an innocent (i.e., non affiliated) I might be requested to deliver something for example, that because of the level of need, major or minor, had to be done on the QT so it couldn't be traced back to Roselli or the mob --- which for me was quite simple because there was no overt connection back to either. So too, without being discussed openly at any level, it was a given that the innocence that blanketed any endeavor was a necessary part of that endeavor and it was expected to be maintained, that is, lie if you had to, but not to compromise the endeavor or anyone involved. I know because, as found in Footnote  below, after Roselli's intervention and help regarding my stepmother who had fallen on hard times and who he knew from the old days, I was asked to participate in some level of completion for a couple of small tasks.
Roselli was born Filippo Sacco in Italy in 1905 and immigrated to the U.S. with his mother in 1911, settling in East Boston. He dropped out of school taking a job driving a milk wagon basically to cover the delivery of morphine to a variety of customers. On September 14, 1922, at age 17, Roselli had his first recorded run-in with the law. He was being trailed in a sting operation by Federal narcotic agents during one of his deliveries to a drug addict who was also a government informant. Roselli was arrested and released after six months in jail. Shortly thereafter the informant was found murdered and Roselli became the number one suspect.
Harassed and suspected of murder Roselli fled to New York taking up with the New York gangs. Soon he was farmed out to Johnny Torrio who had moved to Chicago in 1918 taking his eventual underboss Al Capone, who was facing a potential murder charge in New York, with him, becoming a member of the Chicago mob. In Chicago one of the 18 year old Roselli's early jobs, as a predecessor to Joe Accardo, was being the driver for the 24 year old Al Capone before Al Capone became Al Capone. When Roselli was diagnosed with early stages of tuberculosis, doctors recommended a warmer climate. Having established himself as a staunch foot soldier and loyalist to the creed and not wanting to waste Roselli's talents as a fearless follow through enforcer Torrio sent him to Los Angeles in 1924. In Los Angeles Roselli was supposed to fall under the auspices of Joseph Ardizzone and Jack Dragna. Instead he turned to bootlegging working for Tony Cornero without planting his feet under anyone specific. Cornero was indicted by federal authorities on Dec. 22, 1926 for his bootlegging activities. He escaped from the authorities and was on the lam for two years before turning himself in, after which he served two years. With Cornero out of the picture Roselli began focusing his efforts exclusively toward Dragna.
During that period Dragna had continually strengthened his position and eventually took over as the sole Los Angeles don after Ardizzone disappeared October 15, 1931. Dragna had his own longtime core of people around him that he knew, trusted, and was familiar with. In a sense Roselli was an outsider, albeit with strong ties to the Chicago outfit. One area Dragna was weak in was the entertainment industry, that is, Hollywood and the film industry. Keeping Roselli at arms length yet still providing a much needed service he put Roselli in charge of dealing with Hollywood --- which inturn he did amazingly well.
By May of 1932 Al Capone was pretty much out of the picture, not only in Chicago but across the board, having been convicted by the Feds on income tax evasion and sent to the U.S. Penitentiary in Atlanta, Georgia (transferred to Alcatraz on August 11, 1934). Most people would say that with Capone gone Roselli's link to the top was severed. However, he had long made a favorable name for himself up and down the oganization because of the way he always conducted himself. Those at the top of the organizational hierarchy liked him because he had an ability to successfully interface with people beyond the circle of the mob without scaring the pants off them. On the outside he was suave, good looking, impeccably dressed and gentlemanly, modeling himself after the mobster Paul Ricca. On the inside Roselli was like a rattlesnake in a box. You should always think twice before sticking your hand in it.
Roselli's modus operandi was quite simple. He collected the money from his "endeavors" himself, then he divided and distributed it himself --- rather than have it go to the Dragna organization for example, for them to divide and distribute. In Dragna's case he was happy because before Roselli and his enterprising Hollywood methods he was not getting any money from that area. Chicago was happy because Roselli was making sure they were receiving their full cut without worry that it was getting skimmed before the cut was made. Roselli's mob related talents and strengths did not just happen overnight, they were cultivated for years. Although the link to the orginal source of the quote below is now lost in cyber-space, it has been attributed to the pretty much anonymous author of DIELAND: Mob: The Los Angeles Satellite. So said, rather than attempt a rewrite or restate it in my own words, I'll present it as it is:
"By the close of the 20's Johnny Roselli was a man of unlimited power and respect. As Roselli's stature grew in both L.A. rackets and social circles, Johnny began to cultivate himself into a gentleman in the mode of his mentor Paul Ricca. Johnny began dressing in hand tailored suits and sported expensive jewlery and dropped the guteral dialect of the streets of Boston, New York and Chicago, where he had grown up and made his reputation. These ways would open the doors of high society to Roselli for the rest of his life. Mixing his gift of charm with the knowledge of when to throw in a well placed act of violence would forever provide a special place in the outfit leadership."
Quietly standing off to the side in the shadows, yet contributing heavily to Roselli's continuing cultivation moving into and throughout the 1930s, was his old boss Tony Cornero. Within weeks of the Nevada legislature's March 1931 law legalizing statewide casino gambling, Cornero and his brothers opened up the Meadows Club, one of the first casinos in Las Vegas. The Meadows, with it's wildly fancy interior and live entertainment was considered the finest casino in Las Vegas and the forerunner to all the casinos that came after it in the 1940s. Roselli had no stake in any of the operations, but Cornero gave him free run of the place. Same with the fleet of gambling ships Cornero had moored beyond the three mile limit off the Southern California coast in the late 1930s --- including Cornero's flagship the Rex stationed off Redondo Beach. The Rex was a high class well-appointed vessel costing upwards of $200,000 to outfit. Cornero designed it to appeal to middle and upper class customers rather than just underworld types. All of it worked perfectly into Roselli's image by providing pull on one end and gaining access on the other with high-rollers, big spenders, movie stars and flush fringe elements such as mobsters and their families.
To show how smooth and easily Roselli was able to work both sides of the fence, right on the heels of a quickie marriage to newspaper heiress Marajen Stevick followed by a just as quick annulment, on April 1, 1939, the 33 year old Roselli married an exceptionally beautiful up-and-coming 22 year old actress with over 20 movies under her belt named June Lang. Reports are that Lang was madly in love with Roselli BUT, like many on the periphery or slightly out of the loop, had no idea he was a mobster. Lang divorced him in March 1943 after she apparently had somekind of leakage of an epiphany and became aware of the truth --- that and rumors of a potential and flowering interest by Roselli toward another actress by the name of Helen Greco.
On December 4, 1942, just three days short of one full year following the attack on Pearl Harbor --- and while still married to Lang --- at age 37, for reasons not clear, Roselli either joined or was inducted into the U.S. Army. He only served until he was arrested on federal charges March 18, 1943.
Roselli, along with Chicago mobsters Charles Gioe, Frank Nitti, Paul Ricca, Louis Campagna, Phil D'Andrea, Frank Maritote, and Ralph Pierce, in addition to New Jersey hood Louis Kaufman were indicted on federal labor racketeering charges. Nitti committed suicide the day after the indictments were announced and during the trial the charges were dropped against Pierce. The trial began on October 5, 1943 and on December 22, 1943 they were found guilty of conspiracy to extort more than $l million from the motion picture industry. After spending Christmas with their families the seven men were sentenced on New Year's Eve. The five Chicago mobsters and Johnny Roselli received prison terms of 10 years each and a $10,000 fine. Kaufman drew a seven-year sentence and a $10,000 fine. After serving roughly three and a half years all of them were paroled.
As quick as he was released Roselli landed on his feet, securing a legitimate cover in Hollywood working as an associate producer for his friend Bryan Foy and his Bryan Foy Productions, distributing through Eagle Lion such film noirs as Canon City and T-Men. As entertainment and enterainers slipped back and forth between Hollywood and Las Vegas he became deeper ingrained in the mob's ties and interests in Nevada's gambling capital, overseeing and ensuring that a huge number of different people in a huge number of different casinos, all with different allegiances and interests, were not edging out of their full share of what should be going to the Outfit.
Roselli soon veered himself into operating a talent booking agency called Monte Prosser Productions whose base of operations was in the Desert Inn. Monte Prosser Productions quickly became the ONLY agency used by ALL of the casinos. His agency even had the contract to represent the company that put in and maintained all the ice machines in ALL the hotels in Vegas. People often laugh or make fun of Roselli because of his ice machine connection, thinking it was small time rinky-dink stuff. However, he did it on purpose. Besides being lucrative it gave so-called work crews and maintenance men under his direct control free and unfettered access to almost every floor in every hotel, basically coming and going as they pleased without being noticed, in turn giving Roselli eyes and ears all over Vegas unlike anybody else. For sure, housekeeping workers on the floors knew who they were and more than likely mutually beneficial cooperation came into play between the two on more than one occasion. Although it was well known Roselli could be brutal, albeit usually at a distance, he was also known to be generous. Anything that worked out in his favor was always remembered, things that didn't were never forgotten. If a string of expensive pearls or a gold Rolex fell into his hands every member of the chain, even at the lowest level, received their due in some fashion.
Around that time actor/singer Frank Sinatra sponsored Roselli into the Los Angeles Friar's Club. No sooner had he become a member than with his astute knowledge of such things he quickly figured out there was some sort of a card cheating scam in play. When he learned Maury Friedman, who owned the land the Silver Slipper was built on and helped finance the Frontier Casino --- and that Roselli knew had helped siphon off millions of the casino's profits for the the Detroit mob --- was in the mix he knew for certain there was something going on. Roselli demanded and got, because nobody was willing to go against him, twenty percent of the take. When the whole thing began falling apart for a number of assorted reasons, a man by the name of George Emerson Seach, who assisted the main players in the scam, ratted them out after being granted immunity as a government witness.
The Grand Jury returned an indictment December 21, 1967. The trial started June 11, 1968 and lasted six months. Roselli received a $55,000 dollar fine and five years in prison on pretty much unproven, although most likely true, trumped up charges. He was released October 5, 1973 and retired to Florida.
In June and and then again in September, 1975 Roselli was called to testify before the U.S. Senate Select Committee on Intelligence, the so-called Church Committee. His appearance before the committee circulated around testimony regarding his knowledge of the CIA, the Mafia, and specifically his involvement in a number of attempts to kill Fidel Castro during the 1960s. He was called back again in April, 1976 to testify on what, if anything, he knew about a conspiracy surrounding the assassination of President John F. Kennedy. Three months later the committee wanted him to testify again, but found he had been missing since July 28, 1976.
On July 16 Roselli, along with his sister and her husband, went to dinner with known bigtime Mafia don Santo Trafficante. On July 27 a mob-connected lawyer called Roselli from Los Angeles and told him to get out of Miami immediately. The next day, July 28th, Roselli disappeared on the way to play golf. On August 9, 1976 Roselli's body was found stuffed into in a 55-gallon drum floating in Dumfounding Bay near Miami, Florida. He had been strangled, shot, and his legs sawn off. The barrel was punched full of holes and wrapped in chains.
When Roselli started up through the ranks he was young. Age 13. When he went before the Church Committee he was in his 70s, his mentors and those he swore alligence to throughout the years were either old or dead. The younger ones that were coming up behind him he neither helped nor knew him. Roselli's objective was to set the record straight. In the eyes of the mob however, that is, in the overall scheme of things as it related back to the code, regardless of all of his years of being a loyal member in the past, his testimony before congress was seen as voilating "Omerata," the code of silence, a Cardinal sin punishable by death. If Roselli actually violated Omerata or was simply a victim of a personal vendetta for having stepped on someone's toes is up for argument.(see)
In 1981 or 1982, after living in the Caribbean island nation of Jamaica for two years in the Peace Corps and returning to the U.S. after completion of my service, found me in Florida in pursuit of locating a former Vietnam War POW that had come to my attention as living there. Although I had never met him, he had been peripherally implemental in one of those forks in the road that happens in one's life that ends up having a huge downstream impact.(see) During my search for the POW, in that I was in Florida, I also tried, without positive results I might add, to locate Roselli's sister, Edith Daigle, said to have been living in Plantation, Florida, with me wanting to see her for no other reason than to offer my condolences. That was pretty much the last time I had any interaction with anything connected to Roselli or anybody even remotely connected with him, pro or con, government or otherwise except for a brief incident that transpired maybe a year or so after my unsuccessful search for his sister.
As for Roselli, other than the above offhand related incidents, the last time I saw him myself personally was some ten years before and done so under or by request in September of 1973, just prior to his release on parole from the federal Terminal Island facility near Los Angeles.
WORLD WAR II COMES TO REDONDO
ON THE RAZOR'S
SOME RESEARCH PROVIDED THROUGH, AMONG OTHER SOURCES
ALL AMERICAN MAFIOSO: THE JOHNNY ROSSELLI STORY
by Charles Rappleye and Ed Becker
As to the subject of donations, for those who may be so interested as it applies to the gratefulness of my works, I invariably suggest any funds be directed toward THE WOUNDED WARRIOR PROJECT and/or THE AMERICAN RED CROSS.
Over and over it has been brought up if and when Roselli showed up in California. It has been reported that as early as January 1924 Roselli was arrested in Burbank, California, a suburb of Los Angeles, after he purchased forty cases of beer. He pleaded guilty before a federal judge stating he wanted to bear full responsibility for his actions and paid the $500 dollar fine. The case was lodged under the name of James Roselli.
In August 1925 Roselli was arrested in the town of Roscoe (renamed Sun Valley in 1948, adjacent to Burbank) by officers of the Burbank Police Department and charged with operating a 1,000 gallon storage facility for beer and distilled spirits. The case was lodged under the name of name Sam Roselli.
Paul Ricca came up through the organization almost from the beginning. When Al Capone was arrested and sent to prison it looked to all the world that Frank Nitti had taken over the Chicago organization. Actually it was Ricca who pulled the strings. Ricca felt that what brought Capone down was the spotlight he put on himself through his high-profile flamboyant lifestyle and that the spotlight put to much illumination on their day-to-day activities. Ricca was much more subdued staying almost exclusively out of the limelight. When he did appear in public he was impeccable. Roselli having known Capone from the beginning decided the Ricca model was the way for him. In Like Cashmere On A Leper (Part One) by John William Tuohy, Tuohy writes the following about Ricca:
"In the working class dominated underworld, where ignorance is a virtue, Ricca was not only relatively well read, he practiced old world manners. He never spoke a vulgar word. He bowed slightly to women and they adored him. He was refined in the peasant Italian view of what refinement was. He never told an off color story."(source)
As to the quote cited in the main text about Roselli, I have received a number of responses informing me the original source can no longer be accessed. At onetime it was found as part of a whole series of interelated mob pages all done by the same author, I mean page after page, outlining the background and lineage of every single one of the various mob families and individuals --- all on the web under the old, free, FortuneCity webpage providers, of which the Roselli page was one. However, now all of those pages are defunct, lost in cyber-space, although the original FortuneCity page titles and URLs live on in Google search even though the pages cannot be called up. The author, whose name I will not mention, who has moved on, requested me to remove his name from my works so a search of him will not lead back to him or connect him with the now defunct pages.
For those who may be so interested I have captured the original page the quote I used was found on and have reproduced a facsimile of that portion of the page related to Roselli. That facsimile can be found by going to:
DIELAND: Mob: The Los Angeles Satellite
Some people have said that the $200,000 dollar figure was low and that it was more like $600,000 dollars that Cornero put into the Rex. Others have said just the opposite, that the Rex was a tub and unseaworthy, a death trap waiting to happen. Thing is, is when the Rex was no longer being used as a gambling ship by Cornero it was reconverted back to its original configuration in 1942 and renamed Star of Scotland. According to records obtained by U-boat.net, the former Rex, renamed as the Star of Scotland, was attacked November 13, 1942, by the German Submarine U-159 about 900 miles west of Lüderitz Bay, Southwest Africa and sunk. Quite a little journey for an unseaworthy tub.(source)
(for vintage YouTube footage on Rex please click image)
Gordon Hunter in JUNE LANG: Meet the Girl, with interview notes from the files of Colin Briggs, writes:
"Mafia historians claim Roselli was the Chicago mob’s man in Las Vegas. Roselli also was a friend of producer Bryan Foy, and aspired to be a film producer himself. 'The experts' on Hollywood stars in the past have often declared that the reason for the termination of June’s contract with Fox was because of her marriage to Roselli. Actually, her contract was 'torn up' the year before the marriage took place, when she quit England and the set of So This Is London. June applauded Colin Briggs when he wrote the truth on this matter back in 1992. She wrote, 'Thank you, thank you, thank you, my dear Colin, for setting the record straight at last.'"(source)
ROCHELLE HUDSON, JUNE LANG, AND FRIEDA INESCORT
(please click image)
Around the same time Lang married Roselli she was working on a movie called Convicted Woman with Rochelle Hudson. The two of them struck up conversation in a friendly manner because both had worked on Shirley Temple movies, inspiring a sort of special esprit de corps between them. Like Lang's career would soon be, albeit for totally different reasons, Hudson's film career would be interrupted as well in the years just prior to the war and into it's early years when she worked as a spy for the Naval Intelligence Service. She along with her husband, a Naval officer posing as a civilian, who like Lang, she had just married, participated in espionage work primarily in Mexico, but also Central and South America. Together they posed as a vacationing couple to detect if there was any German activity in these areas. Hudson's career, like Lang's would never get back on track following the war.
For more regarding Roselli and his "quickie marriage to Marajen Stevick followed by a just as quick annulment" go to the account of same on the website of Maureen Hughes. For more on Helen Greco, aka Helen Grayco, who married bandleader-entertainer Spike Jones in July 1948, and her relationship with Roselli see page 35 of Hughes' book Countess and the Mob.
JOHNNY ROSELLI IN UNIFORM CIRCA 1943
Despite Roselli's age, sketchy background, and illnesses, he still was able to make it into the army and through basic training well enough to be assigned to further training, participating in some fashion in advanced training with a tank battalion --- said to be one of the tank battalions that was a member of an armored division that hit the beaches during the Normandy invasion. Of course, well before that was to happen he was indicted on federal charges, spending the invasion in prison. Author Thomas Reppetto in AMERICAN MAFIA: A History of Its Rise to Power, (2004) writes:
"(T)hirty-seven-year-old Johnny Roselli had joined the army despite severe arthritis and chronic TB. He was brought back from his training with a tank battalion to be arraigned. If Johnny hoped for sympathy from the jury because he was a serviceman, he was disappointed --- the U.S. attorney's office obtained a court order stripping him of his uniform."
ROSELLI NOT LONG AFTER OUR FIRST MEETING IN 1946
No sooner had Roselli been paroled than I, as a very young boy, met him, the first of three meetings that I am willing to admit to. The initial two meetings were under the auspices of my Stepmother who knew him, and a third time on my own when I went by to thank him for helping her.
I wasn't even ten years old when my stepmother took me to visit Roselli while he was in a hospital in Santa Barbara. She said he was a longtime friend and was recuperating after having been in the army and wanted to pay her respect. While it is true Roselli had been in the army, he only served until he was arrested on federal charges, found guilty and sentenced to ten years in federal prison. After serving roughly three and a half years he was paroled. Roselli had tuberculosis and the time in prison only aggravated the condition. As soon as he was released he immediately put himself under hospital care. When my stepmother and I saw him in the hospital he may have been recuperating alright, but not from the army, but prison.
The second meeting occurred when I had just turned 21 and decided to go to Las Vegas for the first time on my own. On the way I stopped by my stepmother's, who had since fallen on hard times, to see how she was doing and slip her a few bucks. When she learned I was going to Vegas she asked if I remembered our trip to Santa Barbara and the man in the hospital. When I told her yes she scribbled a few things on a piece of paper, put it in an envelope and told me to look him up and give him the note. Which I did.
When I went to see Roselli in Vegas, our second meeting, to deliver the note for my stepmother it just happened to be when he was at the absolute top of his game. At the time I had no clue who he was, his stature, or his power. After he read the note he asked where I was staying. When I told him he picked up a phone on the table, dialed a number, told them he was Johnny Roselli, talked a few more minutes, then hung up. He told me he had "comped" my room for me, moved me up to a suite, and that during my stay, except for gambling, everything was on the house. He said if there was any problem tell them to call him. Then he told me to make sure I looked him up before I left as he wanted to return something to my mother. Just as I was getting up he made one last comment asking "Ride any trains lately?" I just pointed at him and we both laughed.(see)
When I went back to the Desert Inn I didn't see Roselli but there was a large manilla envelope waiting for me with one of my stepmother's old aliases written on it. On the way home I stopped by her place and gave her the envelope. When she opened it inside was $5000 in cash.(see)
My third meeting with Roselli was in 1961, during one of the busiest, and by mid-year, the start of the most surveilled time of his life. Although I set the meeting into motion myself, for me, the fact that it transpired at all was through pure luck, anti-luck, fate, or just plain happenstance, having just undercut the start of the government's 24 hour around the clock surveillance. As I look back on the history of events that went on in his life during that period of time I cannot believe how incredibly naïve I was. The Bay of Pigs, assassination attempts on Fidel Castro, interactions with the Kennedy brothers JFK and Robert, Marilyn Monroe, Sam Giancana, the list goes on and on. Here I was, a dumbass twenty-something, blatantly walking into the casino I saw him last, not knowing anything about anything, and asking to see Roselli. I was practically thrown out of the place until I called him by his mob name and asked some growler to give him a note.
During the year 1961, although I didn't know it, Roselli barely had time to set foot in Las Vegas, operating out of Los Angeles and traveling back and forth to Miami, Frank Sinatra's Cal-Neva Lodge in Lake Tahoe and a variety of other places taking care of business. Like I say above, I was incredibly naïve. I just happened to be in Las Vegas traveling with master sports car mechanic Joe Landaker for the SCCA road races at McCarran Field and thought while I was there I would thank Roselli for helping out my stepmother. The note I handed the growler was just that, a thank you note pure and simple with no intention to meet with Roselli or for it to lead to anything else bigger. It just so happened, for whatever reason, with all his travels and such, during the same time I was there he was in Vegas too --- and got the note.
The Fremont Hotel downtown was one of the major sponsors of the road races that weekend and because of that Landaker and I were staying in one of several comped rooms (i.e., free) set aside for people associated with the races. My note to Roselli was a last minute idea and without really thinking about it I used Fremont Hotel stationary to write the note on. From that he was apparently able to track me down and make contact because that evening Landaker and I were sitting in one of those infamous all you can eat, cheap (in those days) buffets having dinner when a man stepped up and told me Roselli wanted to see me. Landaker's jaw fell open. He had worked for Tony Parravano and, although I am not intimating any sort of a connection, he was familiar enough to know who Roselli was, but had no clue I knew him or why Roselli wanted to see me. Roselli and I met in a room behind the gift shop at the New Frontier Hotel. We spoke for a few minutes, I told him how much what he had done had helped out my stepmother and he thanked me for delivering a message to Brenda Allen a year before. That was it.
AND NOW THIS:
At the top of this footnote I open by me saying I met Roselli three times that I was willing to admit to. Over time a number of people have come forward interested in anything else I might be willing to share. For those who may have an interest, since this page first went on online I have put together aspects of a fourth meeting, actually a string of interrelated meetings that add up to one meeting, between Roselli and myself. See:
SLOT MACHINES, ROSELLI, AND THE FBI
As for Landaker, I had known him since I was a teenager. In 1958 I even traveled cross country with him in a truck full of Ferraris and Maseratis to Miami then on to Nassau for the Bahamas Speed Week. For whatever reason, a couple of years later we bumped into each other and he asked me to go to Vegas with him for the races, and for no other reason than doing it, I did. For more on Landaker, et al, see:
OF COBRAS, SCARABS, MASERATIS, AND ZEN
THE WANDERLING AND HIS UNCLE
Their Life and Times Together
In 1967, a full twenty years AFTER Roselli had been released from prison for the motion picture industry extortion incident the Feds were still trying to catch him on anything. He was followed everywhere, a string of snitches began showing up amongst casino, restauarant, and hotel employees. In a long line of hearsay, mobster and known hitman Frank Bompensiero, who had become an informant for the FBI, told the agency that their primary witness George Emerson Seach had been targeted to be taken out. According to Bompensiero, because of the Friars Club indictment, before Seach could testify, Roselli told Jimmy Fratianno to kill him. While Bompensiero was staking out Seach's home Fratianno learned that the FBI had taken Seach to Hawaii for safekeeping.
Bompensiero, the informent he was, was certainly no sweet smelling bed of roses. During the heyday of the gambling ships off the coast of Redondo Beach and the likes of the brothel of Fifie Malouf well established along the the Strand, the city, especially the length of the waterfront, was wideopen. On the evening of Monday July 19, 1937 a mob affiliated gambler named George Lester "Les" Bruneman was walking arm and arm with two young women along the waterfront business district in Redondo, just past the north entrance to the Horseshoe Pier when at least one bullet ripped through his back from several shots fired by two contract hit men. The women half-carried, half dragged the wounded Bruneman north along El Paseo, eventually taking refuge in the lobby of the Fox Theater at the north end of the street.
Bruneman survived the shooting. Three months later, on Monday, October 24, 1937 he wasn't so lucky. Bompensiro and Leo "Lips" Moceri walked into the Roost Cafe located at 2700 Temple Street, Los Angeles while Bruneman was sitting and having a few drinks with a ladyfriend and pumped eight bullets into him. Within seconds of hitting the floor they ensured the job was completed by throwing several more rounds in him. A couple of bullets that passed through Bruneman and tore into the legs of the woman that was with him, a 24-year-old nurse named Alice Ingram he met in the hospital from the first shooting.(source)
I call it "trumped up charges" because there is no federal law for cheating in gambling. The Feds put together a bunch of money crossing state lines and tax evasion scenarios, none of it directly related to the events in the Friar's Club that inturn led to Roselli's arrest. Besides, it was only hearsay that he was getting a 20 percent take, plus the cheating scam was already in place and running when Roselli came across it in operation. He had no part in setting it up or in it's operation. The following is from 432 F. 2d 879 - United States v. Roselli:
The proceeds of one "peeked" game included three checks totaling $31,500 given to Teitelbaum by one of the victims. At Teitelbaum's request, the victim subsequently replaced one of the checks with a new one for $10,000 made out to "J. Martinez," a fictitious name. Friedman ultimately gave this same check to his secretary in Las Vegas and instructed her to collect it and give the proceeds to Roselli. She delivered to Roselli an envelope containing $10,000 in cash. He gave her a $100 gratuity in return. Friedman denied that this represented Roselli's share of the proceeds of the rigged game and testified that Roselli was merely acting as a messenger to pay a debt Friedman owed to a third party. The trial court, however, was not required to believe this improbable explanation.
This evidence was sufficient to support the trial court's conclusion that a prima facie case involving Roselli in the joint enterprise had been made out. Friedman's statements in furtherance of the common enterprise were therefore admissible against Roselli, and this additional evidence furnished adequate support for the jury's verdict against him under Count 1.28
Roselli was also convicted of substantive violations stemming from transportation of the "J. Martinez" check to Las Vegas from Los Angeles. There was ample proof, if believed, to convince the jury that Friedman was responsible for transporting the check to Las Vegas in furtherance of the conspiracy, and thus to justify Roselli's conviction of the substantive counts as Friedman's co-conspirator.
Finally, Roselli was convicted under Count 22 of willfully filing a false income tax return. The jury, as well as the judge, could have rejected Friedman's testimony and concluded that the $10,000 Roselli received in Las Vegas was not Friedman's money but Roselli's, and it is undisputed that Roselli failed to declare it as income.
ROSSELLI UNDER THE FBI MICROSCOPE
In Footnote  I mention that my stepmother and Roselli were friends. It was through their friendship I crossed paths with Roselli several times throughout my life starting at the young age of around ten years old right up into my early twenties in the 1960s when I was drafted into the military. Footnote 12 gets into how, when and why interactions between Roselli began again after the Army and the Peace Corps.
Typically, as a two-year draftee the Army wouldn't spend much time on me or anyone, but because I had a confidential clearance with so much of the investigative leg work done, it became a major key in the Army's decision with what to do with me. The confidential clearance came about because during the few years that transpired between graduation from high school and being drafted I landed a fairly high paying job for a seemingly innocuous little aerospace firm with a huge reputation. I was originally hired as a trainee technical illustrator for the firm, but was quickly put into a skunk-works-like smaller offshoot of the company that helped design and build the high altitude breathing equipment for the then super-secret U-2 spy plane, inturn requiring me to have the clearance.
Knowing Roselli or even having someone of his stature in my background could have easily derailed me obtaining a security clearance, but because of the era and the times the totally opposite happened --- it actually enhanced my chances and had a tendency for those in power to steer me toward areas I might not have otherwise been considered for. For clarification please see the following as found in The Johnny Roselli Dossier. Notice the Richard M.. Bissell and Roselli connection, Bissell being one of the main movers in the U-2 program:
1. In August 1960, Mr. Richard M. Bissell approached Colonel Sheffield Edwards to determine if the Office of Security had assets that may assist in a sensitive mission requiring gangster-type action. The mission target was Fidel Castro.
2. Because of its extreme sensitivity, only a small group was made privy to the project. The DCI was briefed and gave his approval. Colonel J. C. King, Chief, WH Division, was briefed, but all details were deliberately concealed from any of the JMWAVE officials. Certain TSD and Communications personnel participated in the initial planning stages, but were not witting of the purpose of the mission.
3. Robert A. Maheu, a cleared source of the Office of Security, was contacted, briefed generally on the project, and requested to ascertain if he could develop an entree into the gangster elements as the first step toward accomplishing the desired goal.
4. Mr. Maheu advised that he had met one Johnny Roselli on several,occasions while visiting Las Vegas. He only knew him casually through clients, but was given to understand that he was a high-ranking member of the "syndicate."
The Johnny Roselli Dossier
For those who may be so interested, there are several places where I write about my involvement with the U-2, getting security clearances, being in the Army, Bissell, etc. See:
CODE MAKER, ZEN MAKER
SHANGRI-LA, SHAMBHALA, GYANGANJ, BUDDHISM AND ZEN
AREA 51, GROOM LAKE, ROSWELL
Some people, questioning the nature of Roselli's death and how he was found, that is, floating in a drum wrapped with 200 pounds of chains, how was it the drum would even been able to float.
If the drum was weighted with chains and punched full of holes only around or near the top it would have begun to fill with as it settled. If it settled before it filled with the top side down, then air would have remained trapped in the upright lower half. As the body decomposed gases produced by the bacteria could have displaced the water allowing the drum to "float" at or near the surface. How it would work mathematically:
A cubic foot of water weighs a little over 64 pounds. A 55 gallon drum would displace about 7.3 cubic feet. 7.3 times 64 = 470. This implies that a sealed 55 gallon drum and it's contents would need to weigh more than 470 pounds to sink. So if you take the weight of the drum (say, 50 pounds), add the weight of the deceased (167 pounds), add some chain (another 200 pounds?) and you have 411 pounds, not enough to sink --- but if you add some water you could have enough to sink it. Now if some of that water is displaced by the gases produced by decomposition the drum will no longer sit on the bottom.
ROSELLI VICTIM OF MAFIA BECAUSE OF SENATE TESTIMONY
A person who made reference to have known me in the past, or at least having come in contact with me on more than one occasion at one time or the other, and, after reading any number of my works online, including Firehair wherein I recount quite a number of early infatuation experiences, has asked why I have left out a certain high-profile person he saw me in the company of a number of times in later years, namely in the early to mid 1980s --- mentioning her by name. The her he spoke of, Phyllis Davis, an actress, who at the time had by default a unique set of ties or connections with Vegas, the Industry, and some say the mob, along with a unique set of other things, developed a semi-interest in Mediums, the psychic-world and psychics, especially so one Char Margolis. Although not straight-line directly related, Davis had also became enamored, at least short term or on-the-side with what she had heard regarding the possibilities innate to the supernormal perceptual states known in Sanskrit as Siddhis. In the process she was directed toward me.
As the story continues it was through the Davis connection, however brief or long lasting, that brought about for me the last of anything officially Roselli related. If you have ever read what I have written about a woman named Brenda Allen, as well as a few paragraphs back, you would have run into the fact that just before high school I had a crush on a certain young blonde that was at the time the girlfriend of a guy in the 11th or 12th grade nicknamed "Blackie." I mention he and his buddies pulled me aside one day and threw me up against the wall making it clear that the girl was HIS girl and to stay away from her. I also said I learned really fast never to have designs on the girlfriend of a guy who had a nickname, especially so if it was something like "Blackie."
The Siddhi enamored lady of later years became un-enamored with Siddhis quickly, or at least after a short passage of time, apparently because forthcoming results were not quick enough along with the difficulties in mastering them, the regimen, etc., and moved on. About that same time, with me remaining around peripherally because of a personal request to do so, I was yanked off the street one day by a couple of heavyweight growlers almost in the same way as the aforementioned Blackie had done with me in my youth, and told, "Rosselli's dead you monk-ass prick, you got no protection so bug off."
The very last time I came in contact with Roselli in any fashion was during the late summer of 1973. On August 26 of that year Roselli was transferred from the prison at McNeil Island, located in southern Puget Sound, northwest Washington to the prison on Terminal Island, located in the harbor a few miles south of Los Angeles, California. A month and a half later, on October 5, 1973, he was released from Terminal Island and placed on parole.
That last contact came about through a set of circumstances that on the surface were totally unrelated --- at least as I viewed it at the time. To wit:
In the late 1960s and into the 70s, edging up against the time Roselli was being transfered to Terminal Island, with no connection to the mob or the underworld, there existed an infamous 60s head shop in Laguna Beach, California on Pacific Coast Highway called Mystic Arts World --- albeit now long since gone, having burned to the ground in the early 1970s.
Mystic Arts World was not much more than a front for the operations of an outfit that called themselves The Brotherhood of Eternal Love. The Brotherhood dealt heavily in the movement and sale of 1960s counter culture indulgents such as marijuana, psychedelic mushrooms, and LSD. The Brotherhood also circulated around such "turn on, tune in, drop out" heavyweights as Dr. Timothy Leary and Dr. Richard Alpert, AKA Ram Dass the author of the counter culture bible Be Here Now (1971) that so influenced Steve Jobs of Apple fame and thousands of others to trek off to India and other exotic places.
For all practical purposes at the time of Roselli's transfer the Brotherhood was all but defunct, at least the upper echelon as the year before there was a huge government raid that sent a good portion of the leaders on the run, scattered, or arrested. However, there was still in place major lower level folk and hanger-on's. My uncle, who lived in Santa Fe, New Mexico and long since gone from the Laguna Beach art scene, for whatever reason during the exact same years as the Brotherhood and unaware or unconcerned with it's dismantling, maintained or had available to him rather in his name or not, a post office box in town. Every once in awhile a package would come to me from my uncle through various means, hand delivered, etc., and, since I had a fairly regular access to Laguna Beach in those days being in and out of Orange County for a variety of reasons as found in the Warlord link below, I would then take the package to the post office and put it into his P.O. box or, if requested to do so by my uncle, hand deliver it to someone associated with the Brotherhood.
MEETING WARLORDS, ET AL
The following quote as it relates to the Brotherhood and me delivering packages to the post office for my uncle as found at the source so cited:
"There was never any mail in the box when I was there and the packages I placed into the box were always gone when I put in another one. It is my belief the packages, because of their small size and light weight, contained Peyote buttons for someone's private or personal use. My uncle had strong connections to a number of southwest Native American groups and considered the use of Peyote as spiritual or religious in nature and not breaking any fundamental law. He was, however, very familiar with the federal statutes and the penalties behind them, and made stringent efforts to cloud the issue as much as possible between himself and any recipient thereof. For some mysterious reason not long after the Brotherhood ceased operations the delivery of packages mysteriously stopped as well."
BHAGAVAN DAS AND THE LAGUNA BEACH CONNECTION
A short time following Roselli's arrival at Terminal Island but prior to his release and with me having no in depth knowledge of his incarceration or for sure, his transfer, not having followed his whereabouts or what he had been doing for many years, I was delivering a package to the Laguna Beach post office box for my uncle when I was approached by a man who said he was an associate of Roselli. He told me after being advised by members of the Brotherhood on how to find me he had been monitoring the post office for sometime in an effort to contact me.
Asking me to wait, being in those days a time long before cell phones, the man went to a nearby payphone and made a call. The person he called had to call someone else. When he called back the man handed me the phone. The man on the other end said he was a friend of Roselli's and to prove it he was told to tell me not to ride any more trains to Sacramento.(see) Knowing full well what he meant I asked what he wanted and he responded with wanting to know if I remembered delivering something to a lady in Long Beach for Roselli after, through me, he had helped my stepmother. When I answered yes he asked me the name of the lady. I told him I would give him the first if he gave me the last, which he did, the name of the lady being Brenda Allen, the onetime infamous Hollywood madam. Apparently pleased with the results the man on the phone said on behalf of Roselli he needed to meet with me.
A few days later, feeling compelled to take the man at his word, especially since his Sacramento comment and knowing it wouldn't be known either by law enforcement officials or members of the mob other than Roselli, as instructed I met, as per my personal request that it be so, the same man that had stepped up to me in front of the post office in Laguna Beach. Per his or their request, our meeting, as short as it was, occurred in the downtown Greyhound bus station in Los Angeles, the two of us leaving almost immediately in a taxi. After a short ride up and down a few side streets I was hustled through the back door of a scummy little restaurant in Chinatown off a pig sty of an alley and pointed to a very narrow wooden set of steps that led upstairs to a surprisingly sunshiny and immaculately kept small room just above the kitchen. In the room were two extremely fine looking skimpily dressed, albeit notably high class mid-20s Asian women sitting on a couch and close by some obviously recently used drug paraphernalia spread out across the glass coffee table in front of them.
Also in the room was a burly older white man in a dark sports jacket with a white dress shirt opened at the neck and no tie standing with his back to the door staring out the window. The man kept his back to me most of the time while he continued to stare out the window and I continued to stare almost exclusively at one of the women who had not long after my arrival, propped both her feet and long bare legs up on the coffee table knees together. When I glanced over she immediately spread her legs wide apart revealing she was clearly clean shaven all the way up a la a Brazilian or Hollywood wax with no underpants.
By this time in my life I had been a lot of places and done a lot of things, but catching me off guard almost as though I was out of my league, the young woman placed the index finger of her right hand in her mouth slightly wetting it as she turned it, then wiped it across the residue of white powder on the coffee table. Almost like a Miami Vice episode of ten years later without the background music she gently rubbed the powder along both sides of the cleanly shaven up-and-down outside edges of the skin-fold entrance at the top of her legs, all the while looking at me then down then back as though inviting me try some. The man asked if I knew Roselli as well as how, why, and how long? Redirecting my thoughts as much as I could I told the man I had known Roselli since before I was ten, had interacted with him several times, primarily on behalf of my stepmother over the years, but as far as I could remember, had not seen or been in contact with him in over a decade.
The man said that was perfect as I would be "clean." Explaining further he said Roselli had helped me in the past, now it was my turn to help him. He wanted me to visit Roselli in prison, but since only relatives or approved friends could see him I needed to be put on the visitor's list. He handed me an addressed business-size mailing envelope with some papers inside to fill out which, when returned to the prison, if cleared and after Roselli's OK, I would be put on an approval list to visit . He said after I was approved to go see him, be advised that during any visit I may be not be left alone with him, possibly monitored or even recorded. He will already be prepped so don't try and give him anything or take anything from him that might raise any suspicions. Just be an old friend and talk to him about anything and everything --- the old days, my stepmother, whatever --- but, somewhere along the way, after talking for a while swing the conversation around so I could insert the following sentence in the exact words:
"One more thing before I forget Mr. Roselli, I was going to see your sister in Florida, but can't because of traffic. She is still upset because Uncle Sam treated you so badly when you were in the Army."
He handed a white sheet of paper with the sentence typed in caps in the center of the page and said after I memorized the sentence verbatim, emphasizing the word "verbatim," he told me to burn it. Except for one small detail, that was it.
The thing is, that one small detail was big. It revolved around the fact that prior to my meeting with the burly older white man in a dark sports jacket in Chinatown --- that I figured I never met before --- turned out to be wrong because we HAD met before. See:
THE MAN WITH A MEAT HOOK
Interestingly enough, a reader of my works tells me that around the same time Roselli was being transferred and released from Terminal Island in 1973, the actress Phyllis Davis, as mentioned in regards to Roselli in Footnote , starred in a movie titled Terminal Island. He also informed me that outtakes from the film, which can be found by searching the Internet Archive, clearly explain the unique set of other things commented about as found in the footnote.(see)
As an extra added insight, in a close relationship as to whatever one may find regarding Phyllis Davis and the Internet Archive, whenever either of the two women in the small room above the café in Los Angeles' Chinatown as so described above come to mind, I cannot picture anything other than The Infamous Madame Toy as characterized by my favorite artist/cartoonist Wallace 'Wally' Wood in his spy-story series Cannon and so depicted in the graphic below. For more regarding Madame Toy et al, and any potential comparison thereof, please visit the following:
(please click image)
SLOT MACHINES, ROSELLI, AND THE FBI
"The slot machines that were in a secret hidden room at my stepmother's ranch had been in storage in a lumber yard in Big Bear City, California, after having been removed from an upstairs room in the Sportsman's Tavern. My stepmother's ranch foreman Leo and another man, with me tagging along, took a big old truck, actually an old canvas covered four wheel drive World War II army truck, up the back road into Big Bear and with the help of a couple of other men already there, loaded the machines into the back of the truck."(source)
About two months after seeing Roselli during the April 1961 road race weekend in Las Vegas there was a fourth meeting --- actually a series of several meetings that sort of added up to one meeting because they were all connected and interrelated into a single issue --- slot machines.
Within a couple weeks or so of that race weekend I just happened to catch up with my stepmother. In that she and Roselli had been friends at one time, during general conversation I brought up the fact that I had seen him. Right away she got all jacked up and wanted me to go see him again, only on her behalf, as soon as I could. It seems she had 35 fully operable vintage slot machines hidden away in storage that nobody knew about and wanted me to see if Roselli could market them.
Although I didn't know the slot machines still existed I remembered them well, even having played them on occasion. I had first come across the slots as a young boy when I was playing in the lumber yard where my grandfather worked and stumbled upon them stored away in a back room. They had at onetime been in a bar called the Sportsman's Tavern in Big Bear Lake, California, owned by the gravel-voiced western movie sidekick Andy Devine. But, as attested to in the quote at the top of this footnote, they had been stashed away in a backroom of a lumber yard in Big Bear City after word got out his tavern was going to be raided and the machines confiscated.(see)
Several years later I mentioned I had seen a whole room of slots to my stepmother, telling her they were the ornate highly-polished one arm bandit types just sitting there in a lumber yard collecting dust. She got all interested and had me check with my older brother who had been living with my grandparents until my grandfather died. He said as far as he knew the slots were still there hidden away and nobody very far up the food chain except for my grandfather, who at one time had been a bookkeeper at the lumber yard, knew about them. My brother then went on to say the only way to really confirm if the slots were still at the lumberyard was to visit the place on the sly and check it out. He searched around and eventually found a whole bunch of lumberyard keys that had at onetime belonged to my grandfather. So said, my brother was sure at least one of the keys would allow access to where the slots had been stored. Not long after that he called and confirmed the machines were still hidden away in the storeroom looking all the same as they always had.
Since nobody knew the slots existed or who they actually belonged to, as soon as my stepmother could put it into motion she got a hold of the machines and set them up in a hidden area behind a false wall in the dancehall of her ranch near Edwards Air Force Base --- to provide the flyboys a little extra fun. Just before her place mysteriously burned down, without anybody knowing about it, she had moved the machines to an unknown location after hearing of a possible compromise. Most people who knew about the slots, like me for example, thought they had been destroyed in the fire like everything else. At the time she and I talked, the slot machines and a genuine 1847 Colt Walker pistol were the only things my ex-stepmother had left of any value. The Colt was long misplaced or lost somewhere in her junk. Needing the money she wanted to dispose of the slots. The problem was, not only were they illegal in California they had a history of a tie-back to the mob. To keep them operating without any hindrance at her ranch required a certain kick back. Once they were assumed destroyed that was the end of it. The thing is they weren't destroyed and now she wanted to market them. Enter Johnny Roselli.
The first meeting of the series with Roselli was on Sunday July 2, 1961 in Los Angeles with the other two in Las Vegas a few weeks later during the last two or three days of July. I remember the July 2nd date well because it was the same day Ernest Hemmingway was found dead from a gunshot wound first reported as an accident but later a suicide. After hearing my story Roselli said he couldn't promise anything because he wasn't sure if the machines didn't ultimately belong to the mob in the first place. However, if that glitch proved to be not so, or if it could simply be bypassed or overlooked without anybody's knowledge, in so many words, for a reasonable cut from my mom's side after any sale, he would see what he could do.
Following the L.A. meeting and consultation with my ex-stepmother with Roselli's conditions, the aforementioned other two meetings in Las Vegas transpired at the end of July, one on the night of the full moon over coffee at the Desert Inn, the second three days later during the early morning hours in the casino at the Stardust. Between those two meetings my ex-stepmother agreed to everything Roselli presented, with the second meeting basically me telling him of her OK. After that everything was handled by an unknown third party, the results of which I never learned.
In a pure coincidence of bad timing on my part, it just so happened that at almost the same second the feds decided it was necessary for whatever reason to put into place a 24 hour around-the-clock surveillance on Roselli I contacted him on behalf of my stepmother regarding the possible sale of the slot machines and got caught up in it. Re the following from Footnote  of the source so cited:
"The thing is, unbeknownst to me, during those months before I was drafted was, in Roselli's life, the exact sametime the feds put into place the most serious and intensive non-stop around-the-clock surveillance on him. In the process of that surveillance I got caught up in it to such a point that at least two of our three meetings were documented.
"As well, there is a good chance Roselli and I may have been photographed together sub rosa. In trying to identify who I was, my connection through to theU-2 Project most likely was determined and brought to the attention of upper echelon personnel. Instead of impacting me adversely it granted me a certain beyond the norm status."(source)
In the Johnny Roselli Dossier, which contains copies of onetime classified files accumulated by FBI and CIA during that period, the following, albeit redacted in some areas, is found:
Page 11 LA 92-113
***** furnished information that during the evening of July 10-11, 1961, an individual believed by the informant to be JOHN ROSELLI visited the residence of ***** and that SAM GIANCANA was also present. According to the informant, ROSELLI offered to put GIANCANA in touch with an unknown individual in Los Angeles regarding some business venture in which ROSELLI would also have an interest. ROSELLI is reported to have remarked it was a good location and would have slot machines and there was no reason why they would not make money.
Page 3 LA 92-113
On July 28, 1961, SAs of the FBI observed ROSSELLI in the coffee shop of the Desert Inn Hotel during the evening.
On July 31 1961, SAs of the FBI observed ROSSELLI conversing with ***** at approximately 9:15 a.m. in the casino of the Stardust Hotel in Las Vegas, Nevada.
THE JOHNNY ROSELLI DOSSIER
GAMBLING IN BIG BEAR AND THE SPORTSMAN'S TAVERN
On March 30, 1949 the tabloid-like Los Angeles Daily News began publishing a series of exposé articles concerning slot machines in California. The very first article they printed was titled "Slot Machines Flourish In San Bernardino County," and without pinpointing specific locations per se' informed the reader there were quite a number of cash pay out machines in operation, a large portion of them in the Big Bear area. With the slot machine articles showing up in the Daily News March 30, March 31, April 1 and April 8, 1949, it was becoming apparent Andy Devine’s reputation was becoming more and more at risk. In Gambling in Big Bear and the Sportsman's Tavern, linked previously above, the following is found:
"(With} the press doing a lot of investigations, it was most likely at this point that gambling came to an end at the Sportsman’s Tavern. It is not known what happened to the slot machines from the Tavern, but considering that they cost $200 to $1000 in 1949, they most likely were sold off to someone else in the town (or out of town such as back to Las Vegas as used equipment)."
For anyone who may be so concerned, be assured there is no offense intended toward the on-screen persona or personal integrity of Andy Devine, an ardent exemplar and defendant of the Cowboy Code of the West, but more or less here, taking a cue by harkening back to the old days of the wild and wooly west and saloons.
When the envelope intended for my stepmother was given to me that morning at the Desert Inn the man who did so was the same man that initially blocked me from seeing Roselli a few days before. At the same time he gave me the large envelope for my stepmother he also handed me a smaller business-size envelope that felt like it had at least two pages or more and possibly even a key in it. The man told me that although Roselli was helping my mother he was doing so indirectly through me. In return for that help Roselli expected me to do something for him. That something was to hand deliver in person the smaller envelope to the person to whom it was addressed and NOT to lose it, and under no circumstances not leave it with anybody else, give it to anybody else or let it fall into anybody else's hands and for sure not to open it. I was also told the envelope had to be delivered in the next couple of days and after I did, to call a certain number and confirm it. He also told me incase it was undeliverable for any reason to call the same number and wait for further instructions.
The envelope had a type-written address to one Miss Marie Brooks, 1405 E. Ocean Blvd., Long Beach, California and no return address. I went to the place and after waiting a good part of the day and into the early evening I was finally able to catch up with Miss Brooks and hand deliver the envelope.
I was almost stunned that I recognized Miss Brooks immediately. When I told her I knew her and under what circumstances we met she seemed quite relieved, saying she recalled our meeting six or seven years before quite well. She had been extremely nonplussed when I first stepped up and told her I had something for her from Roselli, turning away exhibiting a strong reluctance in taking the envelope and wanting to know how I found her. Showing her the address on the envelope and after hearing of our previous meeting she changed her mind, even opening the envelope in front of me. She tipped it up and tore off the end rather than along the top above the sealed flap, that way, in the process, any key, if there was one, stayed deep in the end of the envelope. The short term relief she exhibited a few moments before turned quickly into an almost full-body collapse after she read or saw the contents of the envelope. When I asked if everything was OK and if she was alright, she quickly recomposed herself and indicated things were either fine or soon would be. With that we shook hands and I left.
Miss Brooks, of 1405 E. Ocean Boulevard, Long Beach, California, who I recognized, turned out to actually be one Brenda Allen, who, during the whole decade of the 1940s, before she simply fell off the grid following a never ending series of law related problems and disappeared, was Hollywood’s most notorious and prosperous madam.
Allen, who from before the war through to the end of the 1940s was rumored to have upwards of 114 working girls in her harem on a regular basis. In all the years of her operation she prided herself for never having stumbled or ever having to spend a night in jail. In the end she was caught in a more-or-less vendetta type sting put into place by disgruntled members of the Los Angeles Police Department (read: not on her payroll). The following is from the Brenda Allen site linked below:
"In a trial without a jury Allen was found guilty of pandering and sentenced to five years, the sentence to be served at the State Institution for Women in Tehachapi. Later it came out the female police officer lied under oath and, even though she personally admitted to the act of perjury, the sentence against Allen was not rescinded. Allen filed an application for probation which was granted on condition that she serve one year in the county jail in addition to five years probation. In May, 1949 she commenced to serve her time. Less than four months later, Friday, September 2, 1949, Allen was released from jail on order of the California Supreme Court based solely on the fact that the police officer had perjured her testimony."
COL. FLOYD J. THOMPSON, U.S. ARMY
Colonel Floyd J. Thompson was the longest held American prisoner of war in U.S. history. So how is it possible that the longest held American prisoner of war in U.S. history able to be somehow tied-in-to with someone as notorious a Roselli? Only through me, to wit:
Between February 12, 1973 to April 4, 1973 American prisoners of war from the Vietnam era were released and returned back to the United States under the banner of Operation Homecoming. On March 16, 1973, ten days short of nine full years in captivity, Thompson boarded a flight at Gia Lam Airport, Hanoi, North Vietnam to Clark Air Base, the Philippines.(see)
At the very beginning of the extreme ordeals Thompson faced during his nine years of captivity, in an eventual roundabout connection between the two of us, I write in Doing Hard Time In A Zen Monastery about leaving the monastery for an unspecified amount of time on a trek high into the mountains of the Himalayas to visit an ancient man of Zen.
The morning I left the Zen man's hut to return to the monastery after my several day stay he was nowhere to be found. I did however, find a piece of cloth tied to my shoulder bag marked with four Chinese characters, one in each corner, and in the center an outline of a shape that was unrecognizable to me at the time or to anybody else that saw it.
Fifteen years later the mystery of the shape was solved on its own, both the Chinese characters and the shape all relating to the Caribbean island nation of Jamaica --- a place I am sure the Zen man never saw or heard of --- nor I would think, those so many years before, ever having even a remotest possibility of knowing I would end up there one day.(see)
In several places on the internet I make reference to having lived in Jamaica for a few years and while there, apprenticing under a Jamaican man of spells called an Obeah. Usually, although those references may make mention of a given year now and then, most do not lay out any actual start-finish times of the period I did so. There is at least one place it shows up fairly specifically, as found in the quote below at the source so cited:
"When Apostolides and my uncle crossed paths I was living in Jamaica, having left during the winter of 1977 after being in Hong Kong earlier in the year. Just into the fall/winter of 1978 I began apprenticing under a Jamaican man of spells called an Obeah, not returning until the spring of 1981."(source)
Somewhere along the way during the four years that elapsed between the POWs release in 1973 and me heading off to Jamaica late in 1977 I became privy to the fact that not only was Thompson alive, but he had been released. Because he had been on an ill-fated observation flight close to the DMZ almost the same day I arrived at the SF camp and teams were still out searching for him, his name had been indelibly imprinted somewhere along the way into my memory banks, at least enough so that when I heard his name come up among the returnees, at the time, it jogged my memory.
However, after I ended up in Jamaica, which was not totally of my own volition in that I had joined the Peace Corps and more-or-less assigned there, AND me being in Jamaica had apparently been foreseen by the Zen man fifteen years before I ever knew I would be going there, I began to think about Thompson a lot.
Butting right up to the end of that period of time of being in Jamaica by a year, the following can be found in Adam Osborne wherein I write:
"Sometime in the spring of 1982 and a year or so after being gone two years in the Peace Corps, a very good friend of mine, a onetime philosophy major that I had known in college, but somehow now having morphed into a big time computer geek, contacted me."
I left the island on an Air Jamaica flight from Kingston with a quick stop at Montego Bay then on into Miami. During that one year period between leaving Jamaica and the spring 1982 time period mentioned in the above quote I made every effort to search down and meet Thompson. What I discovered was deeply saddening. In January 1981, a few months before I started my quest and without me knowing it, Thompson, who was still on active duty, suffered a heart attack. Then a few weeks later a severe stroke that put him in a coma for six months, of which afterwards he was diagnosed with expressive aphasia being only able to read, write or speak effectively with great difficulty.
FLOYD J. THOMPSON, U.S. ARMY
THE MAN WITH A MEAT HOOK
Actually it was more than quite odd that the man in the room above the café in Chinatown and I would ever have had a chance to have met. It was quite obvious he was mob and I wasn't. Typically I didn't travel in mob circles. As a matter of fact I can most adamantly state that other than Johnny Roselli and my connection to him through my Stepmother and how it may have tentacle out sometimes into questionable areas beyond my own personal desire for it to do so, I had NO formal or informal connection, affiliation, or interaction with the mob or members of the mob on any sort of a long term or short term basis up to that time or throughout my life. So said, what is odd is that not long after the two of us saw each other we both realized we had met or knew each other at some time in our lives prior to the Chinatown meeting --- of which would have to been on some mob related level --- and of which I had none.
In more than one place in my works I write that when I turned 21 I bought my first new car, a brand new low-slung British sports car with two rows of louvers along the hood, held down by a leather belt. One day, for whatever reason I don't recall now, the belt gave me some kind of trouble and someone with a similar car directed me toward a shoe repairman said to be a master in leather work.
His shop, a small almost falling down dump of a place with the outside walls covered by unmatched weathered asphalt roofing tiles, was located not far up the street from the restaurant where I worked when I was a teenager in high school. I had gone by the shop at one time or the other probably a thousand times and never really took notice of the place. At first glance the cobbler was an almost perfect stereotypical fit for the shop and job. He was a funny little old semi-round guy that invariably wore a transparent green casino or poker dealer type visor pushed higher on his head rather than down, along with a well worn below the knee dirty canvas-cloth tie-in-the-back work apron with square patch pockets of the same material sewn on the outside he always seemed to have his hands in. The cobbler took one look at the belt and assured me it was easily repairable leaving no visible difference than the original, although it would take a couple of days.
Two days later I returned to the shop a hour before closing and, even though the door was unlocked, there was no sign of the cobbler. Pushing the door open rang a small bell, but still no cobbler. After a few minutes I eventually found him in the back bent over deep in concentration working on some leather item, an item that turned out to be a beautifully handmade leather shoulder holster. He jumped as though startled when he discovered I was there and initially tried to cover what he was doing, but realizing it was too late he just stood up, retrieved my belt and handed it to me.
Curious about the holster I asked who would need such a fine and no doubt expensive item. He responded by telling me that was how he really made his money. He created and designed custom handmade shoulder holsters, using nothing but the finest leathers and metal attachments either solid or plated with gold or silver, each holster made to carry a specific weapon for a specific person, taking in size and build of the person so the gun would hang perfectly and couldn't be seen under an expensive suit and, although mostly for show and prestige, still able to be pulled out quickly and efficiently. He said sometimes his customers would come to the shop, other times he would meet them at a hotel near the airport, and other times he would be flown out of town, usually first class, to meet and measure the customer.
Still not an answer as to "who," I asked again, saying I was sure no law enforcement officer would ever need such a fine and expensive piece of equipment. It was then, after a period of silence and eyeing me up and down, sensing I could be trusted, the cobbler admitted that most of his customers were high level members of the mob. When I asked him if he ever made a holster for Johnny Roselli telling him that I had known Roselli since I was a little boy he became my "best buddy," saying he knew it, he knew I was affiliated. Basically then, he began relating his life story.
Although retired now, he had grown up on the streets of Chicago and as a kid, to earn money, began running numbers and such things. Honest, dependable and consistent, albeit with NO leanings or stomach for violence, he became a trustworthy low-level bagman and lookout. One day, tagging along as instructed with a half a dozen higher up gorillas he followed them from the loading dock of a meat packing plant into the plant proper for some meeting or the other.
No soon had he entered the plant and started walking toward the back than he saw five or six naked men hanging upside down from meat hooks among the slabs of beef. One look at the men and he took off running as fast as he could, not stopping until he collapsed, falling to the ground totally out of breath, and when found, blocks and blocks if not miles away.
Everybody in the mob, or at least that portion of it, thought it was the funniest thing they had ever seen, immediately ingratiating him even further into their circle, and from there-on-out being known as "Meat Hook." Somewhere along the way he learned how to do shoe repair and from there became an expert in leatherwork of which repairing shoulder holsters to making them became part of his expertise. Over time anybody who was anybody had to have one on his shoulder holsters. When he retired he continued to be sought out, and actually, in the overall scheme of things, how things are run, he really had no other options other than to comply. He did tell me, however, he never made a holster for Roselli. Besides he said, Roselli, except possibly in his early days, never carried iron.
The day I stopped to pick up the belt for my car I parallel parked on the street right in front of the door going into the shoe repair shop. After our talk about his life I went back outside going-about installing the belt. As I did a big American sedan pulled up directly behind my car, stopping so close that the sedan's front bumper and my car's rear bumper were so close a person couldn't pass between them. Two men got out of the sedan with the driver coming around the front of my car and the passenger, who got out of the shotgun side, meeting him on the sidewalk in front of the shop albeit waiting for the driver to open the door. In doing so, as I glanced up, the passenger, having a second or two, turned to me for a moment making eye contact, saying he thought I had a pretty nice little car.
When I was done with the belt I headed back to the shop to thank the cobbler for a job well done, but when I reached the door the doorknob was locked with a sign in the window reading closed. Knowing he hadn't left yet and the two men were still inside I scooted around the side of the building between a narrow space along the side of the shop and a fairly tall wooden fence next to it and headed toward the rear, ending at the back door. As I entered the room the driver moved quickly and aggressively toward me grabbing a gun off the table. The cobbler yelled to stop, I was with him, and with that the driver halted his forward momentum. In the meantime I could see the passenger was being fitted with a shoulder holster. I thanked the cobbler and slowly backed out through the door with my hands up and apart in front of my chest palms open facing outward, returning to my car. The passenger of the sedan being fitted with a shoulder holster that day was the same man I met years later in Chinatown. After the passage of those years and our short talk above the café in Chinatown and I was leaving I asked if I could see his shoulder holster. Sure enough it was made by Meat Hook. It was then the man remembered me.