While Bugsy Siege engaged his tattooed vibes from Murder Inc. East New York, and those corpses into
the high sum flowers golden rod weeds in the East Flatbush lots, he overheard Horace Greely’s “Go
west, young man” and his colleagues in their nefarious roles (prohibition), Meyer Lansky (numbers, the
pony wires) Al l “Bummy” Davis (“I was a contender”, Golden Gloves) collective wisdom to invade the
Las Vegas strip and put their pull on the Flamingo Hotel’s reality marquee; the Desert Inn not at a loss
at the “roll of dice” on the gaming scene, long before Bugsy could say “ cyber space”..
II
To capture the wide open unregulated turf in gambling consciousness and other visceral escapes, led by
austere citizens ( Searchlight, Nevada) losing themselves in once repressed unrepressed gratification.
“You only got one life to live. Right, Bugsy?”
“Right as rain”, “Swifty” Boots. What can I do you in for?”
III
The two gents exemplifying the generation gap, plodded their way through downtown Main Street and
the “welcome“ , the Golden Nugget casino.
Bugsy was in his element as they say. Craps, the one armed bandits, roulette wheels, bacharat, poker.
gin rummy, wasn’t to his East New York nature.
Elbowing his surrogate father alias, the graying Joe Smoot, Faro, mister Smoot.” You count the
cards….the house’s hands. “
“I’m with you, Bugsy. They don’t call me “Swifty” for nothing.”
“”You’re for real, “Swifty ”
IV
In the course of the high driving energy and William Saroyan’s “The young man on the flying trapeze”
playing out, the former East New York mobster and escort for .Ruth from the Liv0onia Avenue subway,
and the bottled “ a nickel a pickle” during those hot humid WPA garage cellared two bedroom brick
constructions.
Bugsy had put in his time being a straight man. But 3000 miles away, World War 2 in a cease and
desist mode, there was an optimism. “ Heaven is on the way to it”, Frederic Woellner, Professor, Ucla
Education..
Swifty nudged Bugsy. The cue that the deadler had dealt all the deck of cards. One play left Bugsy was
not to cramp up..
“High or low?” qujoteth the dealer.
Bugsy pushed his chips toward the dealer. “High”
V
Unlike Marshall Dillon of CBS tee vee Studio City’s “Gunsmoke” or Gary Cooper’s ”High Noon”(Stanley
Kramer, Carl Foreman) late Princess Grace of Philadelphia and Monaco, the Sheriff’s betrothal, Bugsy
cashed in his chips for the karma, he and Swifty strode past the “welcome” unto dusty Main Street of
downtown Vegas.
VI
As both men, Bugsy of the underworld, Swifty an elder statesman, the grandpa of a “a nickel a pickle”
walked toward the office, Swifty into horse flesh, dreaming of a race track, the ponies model was
Hollywood Race Track, Archie Leach aka Cary Grant, the president.
Swifty aka Joe Smoot not only had Archie as his model, his I.D. (Al Sliver bookie extraordinaire from
Ucla’s men gym.) Swifty knew betting on horse flesh was against all odds in this mecca of high rollers
but if the wagering fever didn’t captivate the fringe, then he would face up to bankruptcy…..he loved the
ambiance of the strip. The fantasy, his dream of pitting nags against one armed bandits.
The whole amalgamation: stables, trainers, jocks, hay, oats….the saddles:, Johnny Longden Willie
Shoemaker Johnny Peterson millionaire jocks perpetuating “in their saddle technology” ..
Could cyber space top that reality?
A cue from his Dick Tracy Buck Rogers smart phone, the app into the New York Times home page…
“David Frost, the interrogator of President Richard Nixon for his 30 some hours on television, has passed
away aboard a cruise. The Englishman was 74…. .”
VII
“Mister President, if we may perpetuate this interview for your lastl public appearance. Our thrust into
your Watergate break in and your wiring the oval office in order to leave a legacy of your public service .
Forgetting your roles in the House, your bitter battle with Helen Gahagan Douglas for your La Habra
Heights Whittier Fullerton orange grove seat, your coattail hanger ons with “Ike” President Eisenhower,
the dog named “Checkers” and the attention you muzzled out of that Machiavellian moment.
“Destroying Alger Hiss’s reputation: playing out Whittaker Chambers and the pumpkin papers, raising a
red flag over Hiss’s service at the State Department ( Cordell Hull, Dean Acheson, Dean Rusk)
“Your debate with the Kremlin’s Nikita Kruschev, while you were in the kitchen. You squeezed the
juice out of moment, making hay like you were a political opportunist, off the Whittier College bench,
sprinting for a T.D.. and glory for the Nixon Burger drive in on the Boulevard.
“Mister President if you had a chance to do it all over again, what would you change. Your stint in the
Navy, playing poker?. The 50000 big bucks Howard Hughes (“the Splinter” advanced the family for the
Nixon Burger. “Hells Angels” quoteth “I never met a man I couldn’t buy”.
“Would you still matriculate in law at Duke, knowing the cinema’s Duke was into his Trojan Horse role
with director John Ford?.
“Sitting on the Whittier College bench gave you a lot of time to think about your presence of mind.
Wouldn’t you say so in retrospect. Bamboozling the public, into thinking you were a public servant from
the word “go”.
“Casting Ucla’s Harry Halderman, his Redland s crew cut and Erlichman “the honest man” from Santa
Monica.. Both Gold Key Fraternity men from Gayley, across from the tennis courts..
“And what about the Senior “Senator from Formosa” committing hari kari.? Did Machiavelli play a role
there? His family owning a newspaper in Oakland.”
“Was it all self serving, Mister President? out for yourself? Playing the 88 keys in the key of C, your
machinations wheeling dealing the gulls into your oval office.
Your lasting Watergate legacy. What can you say for yourself, Mister? “Let’s begin with the Checkers
and the slush fund,” Triclky”. To wire the oval office and cash in.
Macnhiavelli’s guide for the perplexed:. Ucla’s Professor Titus’s “Politics”.Halderman and Erlichman
sitting in the front row.,
VIII
The two men, gamblers each in their own way tossed the dice.. Bugsy into his suite at the Flamingo,
Swifty into his office on the strip, his foretaste of ten dollars per share for his horse flesh splendor in the
Vegas gambling mecca.
Out of the corner of his aging retina, he read the Flamingo marquee….‘Frankie Laine “I Believe”
From his other…. the Desert Inn’s “‘Nature Boy’s”’ Nat King Cole
The City that never sleeps, September 9, 2013.
