phone. Only then would investigators be allowed to listen in on private conversations.
That was the theory of the law, but the practice was something else. FBI agents would file sworn affidavits seeking wiretap orders, and judges would rubber-stamp them. Instead of being an investigative tool of last resort, wiretaps became the opening salvo in building a case, and thus the feds became Orwell’s “Big Brother.” The government got to enter our homes and listen to our conversations, and this was usually based on the caprice of FBI agents who were only interested in building a case.
In 1970, the FBI conducted a series of raids targeting a national bookmaking operation with supposed ties to organized crime. Mitchell, the attorney general, bragged that these were the “largest coordinated gambling raids ever.” They took part in eleven different states and in twenty-six different cities, including Las Vegas.
Marty Kane, one of the most successful sports bettors in Vegas, asked me to get involved on behalf of a friend of his, Frank “Lefty” Rosenthal. Rosenthal had been indicted as the result of a wiretap that had been placed on a phone used in connection with the race and sports book in Las Vegas. He had a reputation as being one of the sharpest gamblers ever.
Marty Kane was old-school like Bob Martin and Mel Horowitz. Everybody who was anybody in the gambling business knew he was tops in the field. His opinions on how a game would turn out could, and usually did, change the betting line substantially. This is no small thing in the bookmaking business. As someone who likes to bet sports, I appreciated what that meant.
They called Kane “Marty the Jew.” He had friends like Marty Sklaroff in Miami and Gil Beckley in New York. By this point I was starting to get a sense of who some of these people were. These were the major players in the sports betting world, aworld that fascinated me long before I became a lawyer and that provided me with clients through my entire legal career.
I genuinely liked Marty. He was a little gruff, but we spoke the same language, especially when it came to sports betting. I was fascinated with what he did, and how he was able to do it. Marty was a little portly, and he had permanent dark circles around his eyes, which made him look like a woeful raccoon. But he was an educated guy. I think he had a degree in journalism, of all things, from New York University.
He used to hang out with some of my other clients, guys like gamblers Ruby Goldstein, Joey Boston, and Frank Rosenthal. Marty, Ruby, and Joey were major players in the sports betting business. They would work at it all day long, booking and betting and setting the lines. They knew more about sports than the athletes who played the game or the businessmen who owned the teams. I loved watching them operate. It was a skill that few people had, and that even fewer people appreciated. As someone who loved to bet, I felt I was in the presence of genius.
Marty had asked me to represent him in a case a few years earlier, and it turned out pretty well. He had been indicted in Mineola, New York, and for two years we fought extradition. There was no way I was going to let him go back there to face gambling charges. They were trying to tie him to a $100-million-a-year illegal sports betting operation with alleged mob ties. Mike O’Callaghan was the governor of Nevada at the time. He listened to my pleas on Marty’s behalf and refused to sign the order that would have required Marty to surrender in New York. I threw up every roadblock I could think of and sparred with the prosecutors back there over every issue. I didn’t give an inch. Finally, I think they knew they were going nowhere fast and just got tired. So they proposed a deal.
The New York district attorney, Bill Cahn, from Nassau County, came out to Las Vegas. We didn’t get along. In fact, weended up getting into a pushing match in the law library. But a deal’s a deal, and he
That was the theory of the law, but the practice was something else. FBI agents would file sworn affidavits seeking wiretap orders, and judges would rubber-stamp them. Instead of being an investigative tool of last resort, wiretaps became the opening salvo in building a case, and thus the feds became Orwell’s “Big Brother.” The government got to enter our homes and listen to our conversations, and this was usually based on the caprice of FBI agents who were only interested in building a case.
In 1970, the FBI conducted a series of raids targeting a national bookmaking operation with supposed ties to organized crime. Mitchell, the attorney general, bragged that these were the “largest coordinated gambling raids ever.” They took part in eleven different states and in twenty-six different cities, including Las Vegas.
Marty Kane, one of the most successful sports bettors in Vegas, asked me to get involved on behalf of a friend of his, Frank “Lefty” Rosenthal. Rosenthal had been indicted as the result of a wiretap that had been placed on a phone used in connection with the race and sports book in Las Vegas. He had a reputation as being one of the sharpest gamblers ever.
Marty Kane was old-school like Bob Martin and Mel Horowitz. Everybody who was anybody in the gambling business knew he was tops in the field. His opinions on how a game would turn out could, and usually did, change the betting line substantially. This is no small thing in the bookmaking business. As someone who likes to bet sports, I appreciated what that meant.
They called Kane “Marty the Jew.” He had friends like Marty Sklaroff in Miami and Gil Beckley in New York. By this point I was starting to get a sense of who some of these people were. These were the major players in the sports betting world, aworld that fascinated me long before I became a lawyer and that provided me with clients through my entire legal career.
I genuinely liked Marty. He was a little gruff, but we spoke the same language, especially when it came to sports betting. I was fascinated with what he did, and how he was able to do it. Marty was a little portly, and he had permanent dark circles around his eyes, which made him look like a woeful raccoon. But he was an educated guy. I think he had a degree in journalism, of all things, from New York University.
He used to hang out with some of my other clients, guys like gamblers Ruby Goldstein, Joey Boston, and Frank Rosenthal. Marty, Ruby, and Joey were major players in the sports betting business. They would work at it all day long, booking and betting and setting the lines. They knew more about sports than the athletes who played the game or the businessmen who owned the teams. I loved watching them operate. It was a skill that few people had, and that even fewer people appreciated. As someone who loved to bet, I felt I was in the presence of genius.
Marty had asked me to represent him in a case a few years earlier, and it turned out pretty well. He had been indicted in Mineola, New York, and for two years we fought extradition. There was no way I was going to let him go back there to face gambling charges. They were trying to tie him to a $100-million-a-year illegal sports betting operation with alleged mob ties. Mike O’Callaghan was the governor of Nevada at the time. He listened to my pleas on Marty’s behalf and refused to sign the order that would have required Marty to surrender in New York. I threw up every roadblock I could think of and sparred with the prosecutors back there over every issue. I didn’t give an inch. Finally, I think they knew they were going nowhere fast and just got tired. So they proposed a deal.
The New York district attorney, Bill Cahn, from Nassau County, came out to Las Vegas. We didn’t get along. In fact, weended up getting into a pushing match in the law library. But a deal’s a deal, and he
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