Self-Portrait of a Scoundrel

Self Portrait

of a

Scoundrel

A Memoir of

Spooks, Hoods and

the Hidden Elite

Chauncey Holt

Self-Portrait of a Scoundrel: A Memoir of Spooks, Hoods and the Hidden Elite

Copyright © 2013. Wim Dankbaar. All Rights Reserved.

Published by:

Trine Day LLC

PO Box 577

Walterville, OR 97489

1-800-556-2012

www.TrineDay.com

publisher@trineday.net

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013937960

Holt, Chauncey Marvin.

Self-Portrait of a Scoundrel—1st ed.

p. cm..

Epub (ISBN-13) 978-1-937584-38-2

Kindle (ISBN-13) 978-1-937584-39-9

Print (ISBN-13) 978-1-937584-37-5

1. Holt, Chauncey Marvin – 1921-1997 – Autobiography 2. Kennedy, John F. -- (John Fitzgerald), -- 1917-1963 -- Assassination. 3. Central Intelligence Agency -- United States -- History -- 20th century. 4. Organized crime -- United States -- History -- 20th century. 5. Conspiracies -- United States -- History -- 20th century. I. Title

First Edition

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Printed in the USA

Distribution to the Trade by:

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312.337.0747 www.ipgbook.com

Introduction

W hat lies in front of you is the life story of Chauncey Marvin Holt. This autobiography is, in my opinion, the most revealing, eye opening book ever on the JFK assassination and other covert operations of the secret government of America. This promise may sound pompous, but I am pretty sure the reader will agree with me, well before turning the last page. As the person to make this story available to you, I would like to give you some introduction to myself, my drive and motives.

My name is Wim Dankbaar. I am a Dutch citizen, 51, born, raised and living in the Netherlands. I grew up in a middle class family with my parents and two sisters. My father was a doctor. My childhood was fortunate and free from major worries, as was my professional career, as is my current family with a lovely wife, son and daughter. As a youth my view of the United States was that everything was bigger and better. In fact my father taught me that America had a 10-year lead on Europe in terms of prosperity, technology, basically everything. It was also the ultimate example of freedom and democracy, including freedom of press and speech.

Of course I had heard of the Kennedy assassination but with my background of thoughts on America, I had no reason to presume anything else than that Lee Harvey Oswald was the lone crazy assassin, as the official story asserted. I waved the conspiracy rumors away as unsubstantiated, dispelled myths. All this changed in 1988 when a television documentary The Men Who Killed Kennedy was aired in the Netherlands. It was not so much the theory of Corsican gunmen laid out in the program, although compelling at the time, that triggered my interest. It was more the historical film fragments that ignited my fascination. Specifically a fragment of Jack Ruby, Oswald’s assassin, wherein Ruby states in front of journalists, that men in powerful positions were behind the murder of Kennedy, that they will never let the truth be known and that Ruby himself was forced into a position to kill Lee Harvey Oswald. It was much later that I discovered another fragment where Ruby directly, not even covertly, implicates President Lyndon Johnson as one of the main culprits. These fragments are now incorporated in my video productions like Confessions from the Grassy Knoll and can be found on YouTube under captions as Jack Ruby about the conspiracy to kill JFK.

I wondered why these fragments were so unknown, why I had never seen them before. They had never been shown to the public. After all, it means something when one of the major players in the tragedy, clearly hints at a conspiracy as high up as Kennedy’s successor Lyndon Johnson. This was my first inkling that the official story might be a lie. The idea that the democratic US government, with its freedom of press,  could lie about such a pivotal event in modern history, a drama only equaled  by the 9/11 attacks, appalled and fascinated me at the same time.  How perplexing is it to realize that government representatives and agencies like the CIA and FBI, supposedly serving and protecting the people, were actually working together with Organized Crime to remove an elected President? I set out to study the matter and devoured book after  book. My quest has lasted 25 years now and the more I read,  the more I learned that Ruby wasn’t hallucinating. I learned that the truth was being withheld from the public, with the use of the very media that I had always, in retrospect naively, marveled for their freedom of press.

At the beginning of my endeavor I had dreamed I would actually find the truth, but I quickly lost my naive innocence. I learned that the US media are basically in the hands of only 5 big corporations that are used to control the public opinion. These big five are CBS, NBC, ABC, FOX and CNN. These conglomerates will simply not disclose truths that would hurt their shareholders or embarrass the powers aligned with them. In fact, if they can no longer ignore these truths, they will use their assets to discredit the evidence, no matter how ironclad it is. The mainstream media will turn the lie into truth or the other way around, as most of their audience have not learned to think for themselves. For this reason the CIA has a vast budget for media infiltration, including an endless list of journalists on their payroll. After all, if you control public opinion, you control almost everything else. Meanwhile the doctrine that America has a free press is hammered down. Which is quite ingenious. After all, a slave will not revolt as long as he doesn’t realize he is a slave.

A good example of such damage control is the book Case Closed by Gerald Posner, who I am sure is such a journalist on the secret payroll of the CIA. As a matter of fact Chauncey Holt wrote a letter to the San Diego Tribune shortly after the book came out in 1993. It is available on the Internet and can be found by googling for Stampede of the apologists. Of course Chauncey’s letter was never printed by the San Diego Tribune or any other mainstream media. It’s a smashing letter, strongly recommended to look it up on the Internet.

Isn’t it weird that the vast majority of Americans do not believe the Warren Report anymore, yet it remains the official government story on the JFK assassination? Does that comport with the principle of democracy where the people control their government? If you think about it, it is nothing less than contempt for the intellect of the American people. Richard Belzer, the actor of Law and Order, who just released a great book called Dead Wrong, summarized it quite accurately: 90% of the American people believe that JFK was murdered in a conspiracy. The other 10% work for the government or the media.

The fact of the matter is that JFK was removed in a coup d’ etat, carried out a little more sophisticatedly than in the average banana republic. I always say that on November 22, 1963 the potential Kennedy dynasty, with Bobby and Ted waiting in the wings, was replaced by the Bush dynasty. This may sound odd, but few people know that the Bush family had tremendous  influence over American politics even before the Kennedy presidency. Senator Prescott Bush for example, father of George Herbert Walker Bush, had made his fortune as a banker with Brown Brothers, Harriman, some of it by financing the war effort of Adolf Hitler. This is now all well documented. He was instrumental in convincing his golf mate Dwight Eisenhower to run for President and installing his protégée Tricky Dick Nixon  under him as Vice President. So Ike could stay playing golf, give a great speech when necessary, while the actual administration was run by Nixon under direction of the Bushes and friends, among them CIA director Allen Dulles and, later, president Gerald Ford – both Warren Commission members – to investigate JFK’s murder. This was much the way in which the Reagan/Bush administration, of Iran Contra fame, was run two decades later. Had the Bushes had their way, Nixon would have succeeded Eisenhower, were it not that Kennedy won that election, quite surprisingly and with the narrowest margin in history. Apparently, Kennedy had made a deal with Chicago crime boss Sam Giancana to get some votes his way in return for the broken promise to lay low on Organized Crime. In short, there is a lot more than meets the eye.

Hence I was hardly surprised when, in the year 2000, I discovered on the Internet the very detailed confession of James Files, a mafia prisoner in Illinois, claiming that he fired the fatal headshot into JFK’s temple from the infamous grassy knoll. I was hardly surprised that I had never heard of James Files, despite my then 12-year-long study of the case. However, that long study had armed me with the ability to discern between real evidence and disinformation, with no shortage of the latter. That fact that I had never heard of James Files did actually enhance his credibility right away, maybe even before I started reading. After all, even if someone who confesses to have participated in the JFK assassination, is a kook telling a story for 15 minutes of fame, you would expect at least some publicity on the clown telling the story. Meanwhile I had, of course, learned that the truth is not publicized. If it is, it is usually to discredit the information. Which is exactly the case with James Files. In the little publicity there is, the authorities, including the FBI, have declared James Files non credible, basically because it conflicts with the conclusions of the holy Warren Report. Meanwhile the evidence for his truthfulness continues to grow. Just last year the notorious CIA asset Luis Posada Carriles confirmed in a filmed interview that he worked with James Files on several covert CIA operations. He also admitted that he and his partner Orlando Bosch were in Dealey Plaza when Kennedy was killed. Exactly as Files and Chauncey Holt said. Actually the testimonies of Holt and Files reinforce  each other in more than one way. Files, for example, tells he was acting on orders of his boss and mafia enforcer Charles Nicoletti, while Holt relates how he drove with Nicoletti to Dallas.

My discovery of James Files eventually led me to visit him in 2003 in Joliet Correctional Center, together with a cameraman and author Jim Marrs, to record a second interview, something  he had vowed never to do again. But we could ultimately persuade him due to circumstances which are too elaborate to explain here. It’s all documented in my book and DVD Files on JFK. Both of these are not bestsellers due to the total blackout in sponsoring publicity. Not because the content is not appreciated by the readers that manage to find it. In fact it is the best rated JFK assassination book on Amazon.com with a maximum 5 stars. Some of those readers ask me why they have not heard of the book before. I believe I have answered part of that question now. The naysayers are usually the more ignorant among us, not wanting to absorb the evidence, rather believing the media and authorities, like I did myself in a distant past. Some of these people argue that if the JFK assassination was such a huge conspiracy, lots of people would have talked and the conspiracy would have been exposed. Well, that is exactly what happened. We are just not being told about it. Lee Harvey Oswald exclaimed at once he was just a patsy. Numerous other witnesses and participants spilled the beans on the conspiracy, some  of them paying with an untimely death. The list is endless but includes Jack Ruby, Rose Cheramie, David Morales, David Atlee Phillips, Charles Nicoletti, Sam Giancana, Charles Harrelson, Johnny Roselli, Carlos Marcello, Tosh Plumlee, E. Howard Hunt, Santos Trafficante, Luis Posada Carriles, David Ferrie, Dorothy Kilgallen, Lyndon Johnson to his mistress Madeleine Brown, Oswald’s girl friend Judyth Vary Baker, and on and on. Last but not least, the grassy knoll gunman himself talked.

Others say that the JFK assassination happened too long ago to be of interest today. I disagree wholeheartedly and blame it on ignorance. I maintain that the political landscape of today is a direct result of the assassination. A sitting, elected President was removed through a secret, illegal coup d’etat and the ones who committed the crime, seized power. At least 4 succeeding Presidents were in some capacity involved in the planning and/or cover-up of the murder.  Lyndon Baines Johnson, Richard Nixon, Gerald Ford and George Herbert Walker Bush. It is therefore safe to say that George W. Bush, the most recent ex-President, also knows that JFK’s death was a coup d’etat, a crime against the American system and thus its people.. The assassination may be some time ago, but the power structure built on it, is still at the helm today. Not so long ago at all. Besides, game changing events are never too long ago. As the late comedian Bill Hicks said: If the Kennedy assassination is too long ago, then quit talking to me about Jesus.

Some people also ask me what motivates me to expose the facts of the Kennedy assassination. Well, I can’t help it, but I still view telling the truth and putting the finger on the sore spots of corruption, as a noble, inspiring and rewarding task. Sometimes I realize it is peculiar that someone from Europe was able to disclose so much of the crime of the century, that is America’s foremost drama. But I was able to do this because of determination, because I could build on the works of others and because with passing of time more people came forward to tell what they knew, especially in the autumn of their lives. It is a fact that the truth will be suppressed, but it is a myth that the truth will never be known.

All of the above is equally valid for the book that you are about to read. It comes at least 16 years late, as Chauncey Holt intended to publish it before his death in 1997. He just died sooner than he planned. There is an intriguing story from his daughter that his death was foul play too. He died of cancer, quite an aggressive one. His daughter believes it was inflicted on him when he went to hospital for a cataract procedure on his eyes. He was then diagnosed with ocular melanoma, which quickly spread to his liver and other organs.

It is a long story how I acquired the autobiography of Chauncey Holt. The short version is that his daughter offered it to settle a debt she had with me.  In 2007 I had already purchased the video documentary,  made a week before Chauncey’s death, which he named Spooks, Hoods & The Hidden Elite.That is still the title of the DVD available on my website JFKmurdersolved.com, but my distributor Bruder Releasing decided to rename it to Spooks, Hoods & JFK, under which title it is now available on Amazon.com and other places.

The manuscripts and documents I received was much more than I can present in this book. Thus I made a selection that I believe gives the best overview. Chauncey will take you on the journey of his fascinating life. You will discover his character and many talents, which includes the art of writing.  You will get to know Chauncey as a man of flexible morals, yet with a conscience. You will become privy to many historic secrets. Just one of those is that he pulled the trigger in the unsolved murder of Bugsy Siegel. Among many other things, this book will show beyond any doubt  that the JFK assassination was a conspiracy of many players, some of whom remained unknown until this day. With many documents in evidence that were never published before. You will be given an inside look on the preparations and cover-up of de coup d ‘etat  on 11/22/1963.

Wim Dankbaar, April 2013

We Never Forgive Our Debtors: Mafia, Inc.

An Insider Tells Of Organized Crime, Big Business, And America’s Political Elite

by Chauncey Holt with Ted Schwarz

Chauncey Holt has been a close associate and confidante of some of the most important organized crime figures In America for almost a century. His career started as an accountant for Meyer Lansky, and later, in post-World War America, his audits of mob businesses meant life or death for the men whose records he checked. Perhaps the best known of these audits was the one he did for the financial backers of the Flamingo Hotel, then under construction in Las Vegas.

Bugsy Siegel controlled the finances, skimming money from the subcontractor payment. The carefully juggled books were inadequate to keep Holt from learning the exact dollar amount of the theft, but a bullet to the head ended Bugsy Siegel’s cheating.

Holt had helped establish money laundering schemes used by night clubs and gambling joints in Florida that were part of the underworld lives of men such as businessman Joe Kennedy and media mogul Moses Annenberg. And he had become a theatrical manager using an alias so that he could steal money both from and on behalf of such stars as Mary Pickford and her husband Buddy Rogers, Burt Lancaster, Vic Damone, and others.

The only famous client from whom he did not steal was Rita Hayworth. By the time he was trying to help her with both her financial affairs and those of her last husband, Jim Hill, most of her wealth was gone. Her previous marriages had cost her large sums of money, including close to a million dollars paying off Dick Haymes alone.

An artist as well as a skilled accountant, Holt made a portion of his money from the serious illustration of medical and anthropology books. He also went to work for the Central Intelligence Agency prior to the invention of accurate duplicating devices. He helped the CIA create a document-forging unit utilized for operations ranging from anti-Castro activity to the assassination of Rafael Leonida Trujillo. Because he was a pilot and skilled with weapons, Holt was also occasionally included in more violent aspects of CIA controlled Cold War missions.

Ultimately Holt gained intimate knowledge of both the business and political clout of contemporary organized crime. He joined with the Jewish and Sicilian gangsters who operated what most Americans call the Mafia. He entered their world after they had made the transition from being thugs warring over territory to sophisticated, albeit corrupt business people.

Instead of wholesale killing of one another, they united in criminal enterprises that included real estate, labor unions, nightclubs, gambling, and related activities. He was also part of the Mafia alliance forged with the CIA, since their interests overlapped with those of the intelligence community during the Cold War. (e.g. The elimination of Castro so as to assure the return of the Lansky, Santos Trafficante, Carlos Marcello, and related gambling and prostitution interests to Havana, Cuba)

Today Holt has reached an age when those who would once have silenced him are dead and he can tell the story of organized crime in the last half of the twentieth century. His book, a fascinating autobiography, provides the details of the business, political, and criminal communities whose alliances truly are Mafia, Inc., impacting on most aspects of American government and society.

OVERVIEW

I suppose that in those waning days of World War II, my attitude towards a business career seemed a little odd. Most young men sought a sense of security, a job with a steady pay check, ample opportunity to advance, and a guaranteed retirement after 40 or so years of hard work. The job I found paid better than most, and it ultimately allowed me to use the skills I had developed as a youth – accounting, fine art, and a country boy’s ability with handguns, rifles, and shotguns.

I had been raised in the Cumberland Mountains of Kentucky where moonshine was a major industry. The ability to shoot a rival or a Revenuer, both from ambush and in a shoot-out, were critical for survival. And when I added a pilot’s license to my skills, I became of special interest to the mob.

Meyer Lansky and other organized crime figures liked to travel by private plane, the reason being that special equipment and money could be carried without fear of discovery. Lansky had purchased a twin engine D-18 at the end of World War II. It was usually hangered in Marathon, Florida, at an abandoned airstrip that had been resurfaced by Phil Sadowski, a developer who fronted for Lansky in projects he and his associates had going in the Florida Keys.

Ultimately I became an insider with some of the major development deals in the United States, including the creation of some of the largest casinos and hotels in Las Vegas. And my art skills were so respected, I was loaned out to special agencies of the U.S. government to duplicate documents more accurately than commercial printers were able to do. But the only health benefits that existed involved not being killed if you did your job right, and retirement meant out-living both your enemies and your more ambitious friends.

I also was given a chance to meet or work with men who were at the height of their public prominence. Businessman, former bootlegger, and former Ambassador to the Court of St. James, Joe Kennedy, was one. Walter Annenberg, who ultimately would also be an Ambassador to England, was another. He had been protected by his late father, Moses, who was a media giant owning, among other properties, the Philadelphia Inquirer, Screen Guide, New York Morning Telegraph, and the Radio Guide.

Moses had taken a fall for income tax evasion in order to save his son who had been indicted on the same charge. But Moses also know that he had to be a stand-up guy since the family success was owed to his working relationship with Lucky Luciano, Frank Costello, Meyer Lansky, and others.

In fact, it was Lansky who gave me my first real job, trusting my skills in accounting to assure the accumulation of hundreds of millions of dollars in illegal funds never discovered by the government. He also taught me the true face of organized crime in America. The primarily Sicilian Mafia was only the most visible, not necessarily the most important, face of the large-scale criminal organizations. Jewish gangsters like Lansky, Louis (Buchalter) Lepke, Moe Dalitz, and the Cleveland Gang were always very happy to let the Sicilians take the credit – and the heat – for organized crime. Yet their actions, their innovations, and their violence were often far greater than anything the Sicilians imagined. And some Jewish gangsters, like Ben Bugsy Siegel and Mickey Cohen, acted more like Sicilians than they did Jews.

I met and worked with many others as well, men who were prominent in politics, business, and the world of entertainment. They all wanted Meyer Lansky’s money, his influence, and/or his muscle. They also sought Lansky’s discretion, his quiet demeanor, and his low profile, an approach to life he passed on to me. That was why I could commit crimes every working day of my life, yet I went 35 years between arrests, and even when I briefly went to jail in the 1970s, it was for a short time and received little publicity. Lansky taught me well, a fact that has allowed me to experience grandchildren when most of my friends never saw their sons or daughters grow into adulthood.

Now my old friends, my employers, and my enemies are dead. One way or another I have managed to outlive them all, the reason I am writing this book. For the first time, the inside story of how the Mafia has operated as a business during the last half of the twentieth century can be told. How money was made, hidden, laundered, and used in seemingly legitimate ways, how major entertainers could be owned by the mob, how major corporations could owe their existence or continued success to organized crime, are all about to be revealed. This book is the story of the business of organized crime, Mafia, Inc., a world of high level corruption, violence, and surprising sophistication that evolved out of the immigrant

I didn’t know the full background of Meyer Lansky when I first went to work for him, though he was already considered a legend in the world of crime. I had previously heard about him during the several months I spent in the Industrial Reformatory in Chillicothe, Ohio, in 1942. I was there because of a series of events during the early days of the war. I had joined the Army Air Corps in 1939 when it was obvious that the war in Europe was getting worse. I wasn’t particularly patriotic, though I liked what the recruiter said about Army life and the chance to learn to be a pilot. I had already taken a few lessons, including soloing, at Berea College, but I needed more training.

What I didn’t realize was that I was too independent for military discipline and regularly got into trouble for insubordination. Eventually I served several months in the United States Disciplinary Barracks at Leavenworth, Kansas, because I repeatedly hit a verbally sadistic, physically out of shape drill sergeant with my Springfield Rifle. However, because of the war, I was returned to active duty after serving my sentence. Striking a drill sergeant was so unthinkable that I was both an instant celebrity and considered a discipline problem that every officer watched closely. I was not allowed to continue flight training, something I had to complete learning on my own as a civilian in the years that followed. Instead, I was shifted to the Seventh Cavalry Brigade, the same unit where General George Armstrong Custer had ended his less than brilliant military career.

At first I was told that I could buy my way out of the service for $120, far more money than any of us had. However, the Japanese ended that option for me, bombing Pearl Harbor and making even misfits a necessary commodity. It was early in 1942 when I was stationed at Fort Knox, Kentucky. Richard Randolph Mayo, a buddy of mine whom I had known from the days when we both ran moonshine whiskey, suggested we bribe the sergeant, get a pass, and drive to Louisville. From there we could do some sightseeing in other areas of the state, as well as going over the border into Cincinnati.

Mayo had access to a Kentucky moonshiner’s dream. It was a 1940 customized Ford coupe with a triple carburetor and aluminum Edelbrock heads. It also had a high speed Columbia rear end with overdrive, and overload springs so strong that the car stood on its nose when it was empty. It wasn’t empty often, though. The modifications were made so it could transport 250 gallons of moonshine liquor. Though neither of us had drivers’ licenses, we knew the area well enough so we did not think we’d get caught. Eventually we parked the car at the home of one of my cousins in Covington, then bused into Ohio.

Driving the car in Kentucky was one thing. Driving it across the border when we didn’t have licenses was asking for trouble we wanted to avoid. My family was spread throughout Covington and Newport, Kentucky, as well as Cincinnati, Ohio. Many of them were involved in the rackets in the area.

The leaders of the gangs to which my cousins belonged were men like Screw Andrews, Howard The Hillbilly Vice, Jimmy Brink, Buck Brady, and Peter Schmidt. They were legends in the hill country, though little known elsewhere. Eventually they lost a power struggle with the mostly Jewish Cleveland Gang and their Sicilian partners from the Mayfield/Murray Hill mobs.

A few of my cousins went into respectable businesses after that. Others involved themselves in organized crime and the disreputable side of the labor movement, especially the Teamsters. I enjoyed seeing all of them, unconcerned about the fact that I should have been back on base.

The car we used belonged to Mayo’s cousin who was stationed at Fort Knox. When we stayed longer than the three days allowed on our passes, my buddy said he’d take the bus back to camp and face his punishment. I figured that if I was going to the guardhouse for a few days for being AWOL, I might as well make it worthwhile. With Mayo ‘s permission, I kept the car, planning to drive around an extra day or two before going back to camp. My first night alone on the town ended at Stoney’s Night Club, a juke joint serving music, liquor, and girls, where too much drinking and an inappropriate desire for action led to a typical servicemen’s brawl. The MPs were called out, and when it was discovered that I was Absent Without Leave, I was thrown in the local jail.

Since I had to be in jail, I figured I’d be a nice guy and see that the Ford was returned to its rightful owner. I gave the car keys to the MPs, asking them to contact Mayo’s cousin at Fort Knox.

Unfortunately, the guy was so afraid of being arrested for running moonshine that he claimed the car had been stolen. I guess he thought that no one would think he had done the customizing. Whatever his reasoning, that was where I first met the FBI. Two agents were called in, and they charged me under the National Vehicle Theft (Dyer) Act.

I had been smart enough to not take the car over the state line, something that would have made my use of it a Federal offense if it really was stolen. I had family members and other witnesses who testified to what I had actually done, though their statements were ignored. I was AWOL. I had a car that was customized for bootlegging. The owner claimed it was stolen. And faked evidence showed I used it across state lines.

Such a combination of offenses by a soldier during wartime enabled J. Edgar Hoover’s boys to say my actions were treasonous. They did not believe that, of course. But Hoover was busy building statistics that hid the fact of his incompetence during wartime, a fact that would take almost forty years to be revealed.

I was an easy conviction that let Hoover brag that his men were stopping wartime corruption in the military. I went to the U.S. Industrial Reformatory in Chillicothe, Ohio, a place that was like a prison farm. It had no cellblocks, except for solitary confinement, and there were no bars. It housed a number of sophisticated, well-connected criminals, including Wallace Groves. The latter was a law school graduate, twenty years older than I was, who gave his occupation as bond salesman.

Groves was one of the early, very successful white-collar criminals who masterminded the taking of a million dollars in bonds. The amount was so high for the times that the people he cheated considered him the most evil white-collar criminal in recent history. Those of us living on the other side of the law saw him as a folk hero and ideal teacher. Ironically, my sentence of two years in jail was approximately four times what he had to serve. That, too, was a lesson for me in the way the criminal justice system worked. The bigger the crime, the less likely you were to serve meaningful time, especially if you maintained a respectable front.

I took advantage of the time to further my education. I was able to study accounting and aerodynamics, and since I was a skilled, mostly self-taught artist (I had my first formal art training at Berea College, though that had been limited), I was, allowed to teach the other inmates what I knew. I also impressed several of the career criminals with my abilities, and was soon trained in the ways of what was becoming the new style of organized crime.

This was also where I learned about Meyer Lansky. Lansky, at the time he first hired me to work for him, was still connected with Bugsy Siegel and Lucky Luciano. They had been close friends since their years as teenagers together on the Lower East Side of New York. However, that friendship was strained by Siegel’s flamboyance and lack of business ethics as he orchestrated the building of the first massive casino and hotel in Las Vegas.

In fact, it was my job to supply the documentation that ultimately led to Bugsy’s assassination. But the growing estrangement of Lansky, whose base was Florida, and Siegel, who had moved to Hollywood, was not discussed in jail. Instead, it was Lansky’s business sense, his mathematical genius, and his ability to avoid trouble with the government.

The story is told that Lansky first became involved with Luciano and Siegel on October 24, 1918, when he was approximately 16 years old. Lansky was Jewish and a Polish immigrant whose real name was Maier Suchowljansky. He did what most immigrant youths tended to do, going to school through the eighth grade, and then apprenticing in a trade. His field was tool and die making, and he began his instructions after graduating with honors from what today would be called Middle School.

Lansky was a skilled auto mechanic and gunsmith. It was the latter ability that caused him to use a .45-caliber automatic during his years as a professional killer for Murder, Inc., and others. He knew that with a .45 you could keep the basic gun for every hit, just changing the barrel, the extractor, the ejector, and making other slight modifications. When ballistics specialists examine the reconstructed weapon, the markings of a bullet fired for comparison with the murder bullet will not match, though they came from the same gun.

Although his first profession was one of skilled manual labor, he worked hard to improve his mind. He read extensively from the books in the library near his home, especially enjoying history, biography, and books dealing with mechanical skills. But he was also fascinated by the games of chance run by the criminal community where he lived.

There is a myth about the Jewish immigration in America that implies that all of the people were honest, hard working, and without vice. There had been so much suffering in their homelands that there was great compassion for their faith in the promise of the new land. It is as though when the Jews were forced out of Eastern Europe, men such as Tevye and his friends, the characters from the play and movie Fiddler On The Roof, were transported to small neighborhoods in urban America. We don’t like to think that people could be hard working, ambitious, and determined to earn a better life for their families through dishonest means.

Yet that was the reality for some segments of the Jewish community. For example, New York City had such areas as Allen, Chrystie, and Forsyth Streets that were centers of prostitution where the women sat outside the businesses, their legs spread apart, waiting for customers. They displayed their wares to passers-by, making the area one that families and respectable single women avoided when possible.

More sophisticated prostitutes worked from Grand Street where dancing academies provided dance partners who were always surprised when a man actually wanted to take dancing lessons. There were betting parlors in the backs of cigar stores. There were loan sharks, pickpockets, and arsonists. There were also floating crap games, and it was to these that Lansky was first drawn.

Lansky instinctively understood the odds of dice. If you rolled two dice, each with up to six numbers, someone trying to come up with the number 7 had the greatest chance for success because there were six different combinations that could make that number. By contrast, there was only one-way to roll the numbers two or twelve with a pair of dice. It would be only a minor leap for him to understand the other rackets involving math –numbers, policy, casino skimming, money laundering, and the like.

But it was that October day in 1918 when the history of organized crime in America began to change. According to the story, Lansky was returning from work when he heard a woman screaming from within a tenement building. The apartments had been abandoned, and so were used by neighborhood youth for various activities, including sex. When Lansky went to see what was wrong, he found a naked 14-year-old boy who had obviously been having sex with a tall, attractive woman.

The woman, a prostitute, was being beaten and cursed by her pimp. The naked teenager tried to rescue the woman by attacking the pimp with a pocketknife, but he was not as skilled a fighter. Lansky was smaller, but he was carrying a monkey wrench in his toolbox. He hit the pimp just before the police, who had been alerted by neighbors who also heard the screams, arrived and subdued everyone.

Eventually the three unlikely males became close friends after none would testify in court against the others. The pimp was a youth named Salvatore Lucania, and the customer was Benjamin Siegel. Apparently Siegel had convinced the prostitute to give him sex without paying, an action which outraged Lucania. The meeting seemed to foreshadow the future. Siegel became a ladies man who, by the time I met him, was considered by Lansky to be pussy whipped by his latest girlfriend, Virginia Hill.

Lucania became a big time operator of whorehouses under the name Charles Lucky Luciano. He beat his women even then, a fact that caused them to testify against him in court, resulting in his being jailed shortly before the war. And Lansky went professional with his interest in crap games, teaming with Siegel to develop gambling operations.

It was in August of 1920 that Luciano again met up with Lansky who had gained a reputation for making large sums of money during his partnership with Siegel. Luciano explained the idea he had that a combination should be created from among the young gangsters.

Previously everyone worked on their own, sometimes forming gangs, sometimes operating independently or with a partner. Yet it was obvious that some of the gangsters were punks, others men with special skills. There were Eastern European Jews, Sicilians, Greeks, and others, and Luciano felt that the most money could be made by combining their talents, then sharing the money.

At first the work was simple. For example, Siegel had men who knew how to steal cars, and Lansky knew skilled mechanics who would alter them so they could be resold. Sometimes they went to private citizens. Sometimes they were supplied to Luciano and his men since they could be used for a crime, then abandoned without being traceable.

Later Lansky took advantage of very special talents, such as men who were expert killers. He hired them out to rival gangs so that their men would never be implicated in contract murders. Later this concept would be taken a step further with the creation of Murder, Inc. The organization had branches in several locations, allowing men to be shipped around the country so they would always be killing strangers with whom they had no connections. The killers, originally primarily from the Jewish gangs of New York, were paid a generous salary for which they were expected to do nothing more than practice their skills while waiting for assignments. An actual murder would result in additional pay of from $1,000 to $5,000, the latter figure being more money than most honest men made in a year.

Lansky had proven his courage and his integrity in his early years. Also, like Peter Licavoli, an Arizona based mobster with whom I also worked, he had the sense to provide equal splits for men like Siegel who were not as sophisticated in their thinking. By being generous, he prevented internal wars that would have resulted in unnecessary violence.

What made Lansky a legend by the time I heard of him was the consolidation of criminal activities on an international scale. He had developed a business chain of command with representatives of the syndicate in every city.

In 1936, he went to Cuba to align himself with Fulgencio Batista. Havana was a wide open city for gambling, prostitution, and tourism. Where other gangsters of the era would try to coerce the Cuban dictator, Lansky simply made him an equal partner. He knew that so long as Batista got rich, he would not interfere in the growing wealth of everyone else involved.

Similar situations existed in corrupt American cities. For example, Lansky joined with J. Edgar Hoover ‘s friend Frank Costello and others to form the Pelican Novelty Co. in New Orleans, Louisiana. By paying off everyone including corrupt governor Huey Long, he was able to place slot machines in stores, nightclubs, restaurants, and other locations. A percentage of the money went to charity, and because the act, not the amount of the gift, was publicized, it was difficult for anyone to criticize Long.

Yet the truth was that only $600 of the first $800,000 went to charity. However, even those charities that knew the truth did not complain, for their executives felt that the amount was still more than would have been received if the scam was not in place.

When Luciano went to prison in 1938, Lansky worked a deal with the U.S. government on his behalf. Luciano would cooperate with the U.S. Navy in order to provide security on the docks. Luciano also made available his Sicilian contacts so they could assist with the Allied invasion of that territory during 1942 and 1943.

Eventually Luciano was freed from jail, then deported to Italy in 1946. He was able to live well because Lansky made certain the mobster’s share of the various businesses he had run prior to going to jail was paid into a bank account for Luciano. I learned early on that Lansky’s motto for business was: Never give a sucker an even break, but never cheat a friend. He lived by this code even when dealing with Bugsy Siegel. He treated his friends – Sicilians, Jews, and WASPs – alike, fairly, and in some cases, very generously. But he was cunning and ruthless with rivals and double crossers.

I began working for Lansky’s business operations in Baltimore, Maryland, having moved there to work in the shipyards following my release from jail. My first job was with Bethlemen-Fairfield where I was classed as a time study engineer. In truth, I calculated the pay due to the piece rate workers such as welders, ship fitters, and the like. That gave me time to make book and to attend the Baltimore Art Institute at night.

My skills were being honed well enough that I was used on a freelance basis to illustrate textbooks for companies such as Williams and Wilkins. It was as part of this work that I helped illustrate the twenty-fifth edition of Gray’s Anatomy, as well as doing scientific illustrations for professors and researchers at Johns Hopkins.

Other work included a 1944 portrait commission to paint Dr. Karl Spencer Lashley, director of the Yerkes Laboratories of Primate Biology at Orange Park, Florida. The latter was commissioned by Johns Hopkins from which he had graduated thirty years earlier.

My time study work was supposedly important for the war effort, though what interested me was the rampant gambling in the area. The workers in the shipyards were well paid, had extensive overtime, yet had little on which to spend their money since there was rationing during wartime.

Many became addicted to all forms of gambling, from card games to numbers. I worked in partnership with a man named George Hargrove, though we quickly found that we needed more money to properly handle the business. Wallace Groves, the man who had been my teacher in prison, had given me some business contacts in case I decided to make crime my profession.

I contacted some of the men, arranging for them to bankroll our operation in exchange for 20 percent of the net proceeds. One of these was Julie Stein, and he helped us layoff our bets on other bookies. There were levels of business based on the money involved. A small player who got lucky could wipe out a bookmaker like myself. Larger scale bookmakers like Sy Bloom would cover my bets, protecting me should a big payoff be necessary. I originally met Bloom through a referral from Groves. Sy Bloom owned the Chanticleer nightclub on North Charles Street.

The Chanticleer was the headquarters for Lansky’s gambling operations in Maryland. Sy’s brother, Morris, owned the Pimlico Hotel just outside the Pimlico Racetrack. The Hotel was known for its excellent delicatessen style restaurant and its thriving bookmaking business. Sy Bloom showed me other protections in the system as well. For example, we only agreed to pay a maximum of 20-to-1 odds no matter what the real odds.

Between that arrangement and our layoffs of larger bets, we were able to make $400 to $500 per week, along with the $250 per week I made legitimately at the plant. My income represented 20 percent of the gross action, an incentive to handle as much as possible.

It was through Sy Bloom that I was able to first meet Lansky. The meeting took place at the Chanticleer, and it led to my being trusted to handle the layoff gambling action in the Baltimore Area. I also became more involved with the numbers business, working out of the Pimlico Hotel.

While still being tested by the mob, I was invited to briefly go down to Covington, Kentucky, where Peter Licavoli dominated. He was an art connoisseur and dealer when not engaged with Mafia activities. He wanted my assistance at Jimmy Brinks Lookout House, a business owned by a partnership of the Cleveland Syndicate with the Detroit Mafia. Men such as Moe Dalitz, Sam Tucker, Morris Kleinman, and Uncle Louie Rothkopf, were involved, and they would soon become major players in the development of Las Vegas.

The problem in Covington was the result of a rival business called Glenn Rendezvous, which was owned by gangsters hostile to Licavoli and fronted by Screw Andrews. I had to talk with Bob Zwick, an old friend who had given his support to Andrews and the others. It was hoped that I could change his loyalties through friendly persuasion or whatever violence was necessary.

When I was finished, the problem was resolved in favor of Licavoli who felt I had a good future as a trouble-shooter for organized crime. He suggested I go to Florida where a district manager for Lansky and Santos Trafficante was suspected of skimming from their highly profitable numbers operation.

Again it was to be a test of my skills, the move quite similar to that experienced by a management trainee for a large corporation. I had known of Lansky’s genius, seen the way the warring gangs had gradually been united under the businesslike Syndicate arrangement.

I admired the man who made major crime in America into what amounted to a corporate structure, maximizing profits, allowing specialists to develop their skills, and ending the destructive in-fighting. In addition, Lansky and I shared a love for mathematical games and puzzles the way some people love to work with words.

Meeting Lansky, it was impossible to believe how violent his past had been. He was the kind of individual who seemed to disappear in a room. His size had something to do with that fact, of course. But it was more than just being short. This was a quiet man, someone who instinctively understood that leading a nondescript existence, never calling attention to himself, enabled him to learn and do more than others.

Ben Siegel had become well known as Bugsy, though never to his face. The derisive nickname came from his violent temper and seemingly irrational flamboyance. He was considered crazy, nuts, bugsy. He hated it, knowing it meant that people thought he was a lunatic, and he frequently became so enraged over its use that he only proved how appropriate it was. Lansky had been able to control his violent partner for years.

However, in the late 1930s, when Bugsy wanted to explore the opportunities in the growing film industry, Lansky began to be estranged from him. The flamboyance of Siegel in Hollywood was more than Lansky wanted to endure. He still backed his long time friend in various ventures, including the idea to build a casino and hotel in Las Vegas, but they were becoming emotionally distant. Their lifestyles were just too different.

Siegel had a seemingly psychopathic need for attention, and it was this need that would lead to his death. Because Lansky and I got along so well, I moved to Miami after VE-Day, calling him to ask about the job Licavoli had mentioned. Lansky agreed to try me, sending me to an unpretentious looking bakery in Tampa, Florida.

The bakery proved to be the bookmaking headquarters of Santos Trafficante, one of the most powerful mobsters in the state. The two men decided to use me as a bookkeeper checking on their numbers operation in Jacksonville Beach. The job was in a place called Kite’s Bar And Grill. It was the local headquarters for the numbers racket in the Jacksonville, Florida region.

Again this was Lansky’s genius. Kite’s served as regional headquarters for activities in Jacksonville Beach, Newport Beach, Atlantic Beach, Ponta Vedra Beach, Fernandina, and St. Augustine. Earl Kite, the man who owned the front business, was like a district manager for a large corporation. Unfortunately for him, the gross was down and there seemed to be nothing in the economy that should have reduced the regional take. Lansky and Trafficante wanted me to find out if Kite was skimming from the receipts.

Arrangements were made for me to stay in a Cape Cod style bungalow on the Ponte Vedra Beach. The bungalow adjoined one of the most exclusive golf courses in the country. I didn’t know if such benefits were standard or if I was just being given a taste