insisted he had nothing to do with the mob, was captured on videotape during an FBI stakeout of Salerno. On at least two occasions, he was seen entering the Palma Boys Social Club in Manhattan where Salerno held court. Harris claimed he only stopped to talk to Salerno about the death of his father. The FBI was skeptical of his explanation because there had been two meetings with Fat Tony, one of which lasted an hour. Learning of Harris’ meetings with Salerno, the Division of Gaming called him in for questioning. When it was over, he reported back to Golden Nugget officials and said the Division’s staff had asked a lot of questions about his contacts with Salerno. That was enough for Steve Wynn. Within days, Harris was gone.
The Harris episode caused Wynn some uncomfortable moments, but he survived it. At the time of its license renewal, Golden Nugget was criticized by the commission Chairman:I must note that the prospect of a person having uncontested access to Anthony Salerno sitting as an officer and director of a casino enterprise is, to say the least, frightening … It is simply unacceptable for a company functioning in this most highly regulated of all industries to place a person of Harris’s known background in its highest operational and policy making echelons based on hit- or-miss investigations and haphazard and conclusory oral reporting to the chairman.
Wynn publicly conceded his company had blundered and admitted that hiring Harris had been an embarrassment to Golden Nugget. Several years later, after Fat Tony’s trial was over, the government revealed how close the mob had come to infiltrating the Golden Nugget. The FBI had managed to bug the Palma Boys Social Club and recorded a number of conversations involving Salerno and his cronies. Those discussions made it clear the mob intended to use Harris to make inroads into the Atlantic City casino industry.
Harris, O’Donnell, and the Perlmans—their stories only begin to tell the tale of a long cast of unscrupulous characters who thought they could cash in on legalized gambling. There were many lesser lights of organized crime that tried to infiltrate the casino industry as vendors in everything from junkets for high rollers to sales of food and beverage supplies. Given Atlantic City’s past and New Jersey’s reputation for corruption, many criminal types assumed the only thing needed for admission was money. They never had a chance. What they hadn’t bargained for was a licensing process akin to a proctology exam. That process was established by the Casino Control Act and the scope it created amplified the tiniest warts.
There’s nothing quite like the Casino Control Act anywhere. As a threshold, every applicant has the burden of proving a negative, namely, that he or she isn’t corrupt and has no ties to corrupt individuals. As William O’Donnell and the Perlmans learned, a person can be guilty by association. An applicant can be so tainted by his ties and acquaintances that he will never be licensed, even if he’s never been charged with a crime and is an asset to his community. Every applicant, whether an individual or corporation, must consent to a background examination that an ordinary, thinking person would find very disturbing. For starters, an applicant waives his rights under the 4th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution, which prohibits unwarranted searches. When you apply for a license in the Atlantic City casino industry, you authorize investigators to inspect, demand production of, and, if necessary, seize any documents or records of any kind, pertaining to any aspect of your past. It’s heavy-handed stuff but has been upheld by the courts. The reason is because a license is a
The architect of the Casino Control Act was Steven Perskie. Perskie was elected to the state assembly on the ticket with Senator Joe McGahn, which unseated Hap Farley in 1971. The adoption of the ’76 Referendum had raised the political ante in Atlantic City. By 1977, Perskie was tired of following Joe McGahn’s lead. He particularly bristled at having to contend with Joe’s brother, Pat, who was the Senator’s alter ego. Farley’s long tenure in the position of state senator had made it the most coveted position in city and county politics. His career still cast a shadow over local politics and was the standard for leadership. In the perception of politicians and the public alike, state senator was where the power was. Perskie wanted it for himself.
Some observers believe Perskie’s clash with McGahn was unnecessary. With his ally Brendan Byrne in the governor’s office, Perskie had all the clout he needed in Trenton to make his mark on any casino legislation. But Steve Perskie wanted to do it as senator, not as an assemblyman, and the McGahns were in his way. With the help of Democrats who feared that Pat McGahn wanted to become another boss, Perskie denied Joe McGahn the party’s nomination. Perskie went on to win an intensely bitter three-way general election (McGahn ran as an Independent) in a campaign, which, at the time, was the most expensive ever waged for a New Jersey legislative seat. Fortunately for Atlantic City and its new casino industry, Perskie’s legislative talents equaled his political ambitions. Working with the governor’s office, Steve Perskie crafted a statute that ensured the mob could never control a casino.
While criminal types would make occasional inroads into related businesses and unions, they never had a prayer at dominating Atlantic City as they had under Kuehnle, Johnson, and Farley. The rigorous standards for admission to Atlantic City’s casino industry greatly reduced the number of eligible applicants and, in the process, spawned a new type of casino management. Additionally, the requirements that applicants for a casino license must post a $200,000 application fee
Steven Perskie had raised the bar for admission beyond the reach of the mob. The standards he created ensured that the leaders of Atlantic City’s new industry would be educated, experienced businesspersons. They would have degrees from distinguished universities and hotel management schools. Many would have a masters in Business Administration or degrees in the Law, Hotel Management, or Accounting. The training grounds to be an executive in Atlantic City were now places like the Cornell University Hotel Management School and the University of Pennsylvania Wharton Business School. One graduate of the prestigious Wharton School soon became a major player in the new Atlantic City.
12
The Donald Comes to Town
Donald Trump stood on the bridge of his $30 million yacht, the
“The Donald” and trophy wife number one, Ivana, beamed their biggest smiles and waived triumphantly as the 282-foot yacht maneuvered slowly into its custom-made slip. Television and news photos later made it appear they were waiving to cheering throngs, but in truth, the rain, together with Trump’s security people, had kept most onlookers far from the vessel. Trump’s people had loaded another ship with reporters and camera crews to record the arrival. The animated gestures were merely photo opportunities. Heavy rains left the pier empty and the planned reception was hastily moved indoors to the Donald’s casino hotel, Trump Castle (now Trump Marina).
The
