The Cheater & talented Hand Mucker!

Here is an excerpt from a new book written by a an authentic crossroader (cheater) that worked all over the world.  He was involved with many casino scams and was an expert hand mucker.   Hopefully the book will be ready for publication along with a companion DVD showing and explaining the various moves that  the mystery man and his crew used.   This is a rare opportunity, in the fact that there are not too many actual card cheats that will come forward and really explain the work.  He risked his life by playing in the Mob run Sands Hotel where if he was detected, it was a sure bet that he very well could have been eliminated.

From the CHEATER:

 Dogger was prompt. I pulled in next to him and he got in the Caprice. He told me the name of the hotel and gave me the Zircs, fronts, and twister box. I took the fronts from the envelope, put them inside the circular, domed box, and twisted the bottom. The diamonds disappeared under a half circle of pleated velvet that worked like a mousetrap. I put everything into an oversized black calfskin briefcase that had two brass combination locks.

"Beep me after you leave the scene," Dogger said. "I'll meet you here."

"You go in at ten," I said. "I'll knock at five after. Dogger nodded assent and we set our watches.

At five after ten I was standing in front of Whitey's hotel room door. I took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and projected Raúl and his persona into the room. I knocked. Whitey opened. I entered.

     "Raúl. How have you been?" Whitey asked, offering me his hand. We shook

     "Successful, Mr. Edberg," I said.

     "I'd like you to meet my associates, Chuck and Lou," he said, indicating Dogger and the mark with a gesture.

     I nodded my head slightly as I grasped each hand. Whitey had already shown the mark the burglary story in the phony edition of the International Herald.

     "Tell us about your latest acquisition, Raúl," Whitey said.

     "As you know, I recently returned from the Italian Riviera. I brought back twenty one perfectly matched three carat diamonds with me. The stones are from a choker that belonged to the wife of a rich German. The necklace had a twenty carat, emerald cut, blue sapphire at the clasp, but I moved it in New York, to an old friend."

     "Please give us a look," Whitey said. "I can't stand suspense."

     Going to a round table with four chairs, I sat with my back to the window. As I opened the briefcase, Whitey plugged in a high intensity lamp, to make the stones sparkle, and closed the blackout drapes.

     I removed a two foot square piece of black velvet from the briefcase and spread it on the table. Whitey sat to my left, Dogger facing me, and Lou, the mark, on my right. Taking the pouch of Zircs out, I drew it across the piece of black velvet. The sparkling gems tumbled out in an icy cascade of con.

     Whitey removed a pair of jewelers' tweezers from an inside jacket pocket. Using them like chopsticks, he darted in among the stones. Stirring. Mixing. Preparing a cold meal to feed a sucker's dream.

     "Let's talk goods and money," he said.

     "Twenty one, matched, three carat diamonds," I said. "VVS1 grade, E color. Brilliant cut. Wholesale value of one hundred fifty thousand per stone, for a total of three million one hundred fifty thousand. I'll take a million and a quarter for the lot."

     "Chuck," Whitey said, looking at Dogger. "I'll put up seven hundred fifty thousand. You come with the other five hundred thousand and they're ours."

     "I'm sorry, Mr. Edberg. I don't have it. During the last couple of weeks, I've been going bad, and lost over four hundred thousand shooting crap."

     "Mr. Edberg," I said. "Your partner is short."

     "Raúl," Whitey said. "I'll take twelve stones now, for the seven hundred fifty thousand, and give you six hundred thousand, for the nine remaining diamonds, in two months."                

     "I came here to sell the twenty one diamonds as a set. I already have a firm offer of a million one hundred thousand from a buyer in San Francisco. I'm going there now," I said, starting to gather up the stones.

     "I don't know what to say, Mr. Edberg," Dogger said.

     Whitey shot him a look of disgust and Dogger left the suite.

     I finished putting the Zircs in the pouch, casually tossed it into the briefcase, and began folding the piece of black velvet. Whitey opened the drapes and unplugged the lamp.

     "Mr. Edberg," Lou said. "If you'll have me for a partner, I'll take up Chuck's slack and put up the five hundred thousand."

     "Fine with me," Whitey said. "Raúl?"

     "I only deal with experienced fences," I said. "If the merch isn't handled right, it's a laser beam trail back to me."

     "But Lou is experienced," Whitey argued. "He and I have done this kind of deal together."

     Lou sat down across from me, Whitey on my left. I grabbed the pouch and shot the Zircs out of it like dice from a cup. Betting on the come.

     "Raúl. Lou and I want to take a couple of these diamonds and have them appraised. May we?"

     "Certainly, Mr. Edberg, that's what we do every time."

     "You pick them, Lou," Whitey said.

     I handed Whitey the twister box. He opened it and looked inside. Lou made his selections, put the Zircs in the offered box, and Whitey closed it. I lifted one corner of the black velvet and dropped it over the remaining nineteen stones. When Lou glanced toward the center of the table, Whitey gave the bottom of the box a half-turn and handed it to the mark.

     "We'll be back as soon as possible, Raúl," Whitey said.

     Lou put the box in his outside, right sport coat pocket as they left.

     Whitey would have Lou pick a diamond appraiser from the yellow pages, check the stones, and get Lou's money. When they returned to the hotel room, Lou was carrying a new briefcase. I had never moved from my chair.

     They sat at the table. Whitey twisted the bottom of the box, opened it, and dumped out the two Zircons.

     "Everything's in order, Raúl," Whitey said.

     "In that case," I said, "a million two hundred fifty thousand is all I need to conclude our business."

     Whitey pulled out an aluminum suitcase from beneath the bed, opened it, and took out a nylon day pack. He sat down and lined up seven stacks of boodled up bills with a half stack on top. Twenty packets of five thousand in a stack. Each five thousand dollar boodle had hundreds on the outside, ones on the inside, and thick rubber bands on the ends.

     I picked up one boodle at a time, riffling lightly through the bills, starting just as I lowered the money to my briefcase. When I finished, I turned to Lou. He opened his new briefcase without prompting and piled up fifty ten thousand dollar packets of cash, each wrapped with a rubber band. Five thousand is the rubber band number. Lou was almost sharp. Better dead ignorant than half smart.

     Unconcerned, I thumbed Lou's money, giving a cursory glance at the cash, showing the mark my confidence in him. Lou was proud of his honesty and trustworthiness. He beamed.

     I closed the large briefcase and got up. "Gentlemen," I said. "Thank you both. Mr. Edberg. I'll call you in six or seven months with another batch of goods."

     We shook hands all around and I left. Two blocks from the hotel, I paged Dogger, using seven threes, and went to the deli. I parked next to the pickup. He lowered his window.

     "Cool," I said.

     "I'll follow you to my house," Dogger said. "Drive right into the garage, I'll open it with the remote."

     This time Dogger drove the crash car. Different action. We stashed our end, two hundred and fifty thousand. On the way back to the deli, Dogger rented a motel room just off the Strip for our meet with Whitey. When we entered the deli parking lot, Whitey started walking toward Dogger's truck. He got in and I followed them to the motel. We gave Whitey all the tools, his end of the score, including the boodles, and Dogger took him to another hotel on the Strip, where he would call a limousine to take him to Los Angeles. No baggage checks when you go limo.

     After Dogger dropped Whitey off, he followed me to the warehouse.

     "A smooth one twenty five apiece," Dogger said. "Whitey's the best I've ever seen."

     "And Lou is in mark heaven, until he tries to move one of those Zircs," I said. "Meanwhile, he's on a high few people can reach. It's the best day of his life."

     "I'm ready with the info on the jackpots. Let's meet here in the morning and go over the list, because I want to check out your BJ moves. See if you've lost it."

     I summed up the day. Big money, but the downside of prison is factored into every scam. Plus or minus is for accountants. It was exciting. A sweet score.

    

                                                             

     I was practicing blackjack moves when Dogger knocked. I checked through the peephole in the front door before letting him in. He followed me to the twenty-one table and sat at third base. I took my seat next to first. 

     We didn't speak.

     Putting two playing cards face down in front of me, I started handmucking an extra card in and out, using my right hand only. A natural look. Afterward, I got out a clear plastic, second dealing shoe and loaded it with four decks.

     The gaffed dealing shoe was designed and built by a half- deaf whack out guy who had turned his collar around, and worked all over the Strip fingering cheaters from the eye in the sky. He was of a hybrid species that proliferated in Las Vegas: Half snake. Half rat. No belly.

     In the early seventies, Dogger and I kicked in the snake/ rat's house, beating him for over two hundred thousand in cash and jewels, and the black plastic shoe. We gave the shoe to Nuke "The Inventor" Allerby, who had designed and built the current, clear plastic shoe I was dealing with. It had a plastic prism, and was locked by a magnet concealed in the dealer's ring. During the past ten years, the two dealing shoe, and its technology, had become well known. I kept my hand in because we steered the occasional sucker against it.

     Dogger watched me deal several rounds from the gaffed box. "You still get the championship buckle, Stone."

     "Dogger. I practiced handmucking two hours a day, every day, in the joint," I said. "I'm burned out on practice. What I need is live action."

     "I'm game."

     "Did you find any jackpots?"

     Dogger moved from third base to the middle of the table and opened a small notebook. "Here's a list of ten jackpots. The largest is eight point three million, the smallest is one point two. Four Downtown joints, six on the Strip. You look them over, then we'll talk about it. Find anything in Reno?"

     "Didn't look. Wanted to get back here," I said. "Let's go see Nuke."

     Nuke Allerby lived in a ranch style house with an air‑conditioned aluminum building in the back yard that he used as a lab and workshop to develop his inventions. He was a nuclear physicist and engineer who had worked at the Nevada Nuclear Test Site until fired in a dispute with the federal government over safety conditions at the site and at nuclear research, production, and storage facilities nationwide. Nuke claimed that he and many workers in the nuclear energy field glowed in the dark. Dogger and I had met him at a Las Vegas gun club where we shot trap and skeet. I won that particular shoot, breaking one hundred straight from the twenty two yard line. Nuke, Dogger, and I have the same views concerning government, freedom, rights, and oppression. Nuke says all governments oppress, but to different degrees. That governments lie is understood. Government is a pimp.

     Nuke is a widower. His wife committed suicide after gambling away an inheritance she received from her maternal grandmother. He blamed the casinos for his wife's self-destruction, and waged a personal jihad against them by designing gaffs to beat their games. I paid him cash, and 10 percent of what we stole using his tools. He donated 25 percent of his income from gaff designs to anti-gambling groups and Gamblers Anonymous. Nuke is a genius. A nonlinear, creative thinker who taught me to see in a different way. To bring belief in myself to cheating. To live in the world of the possible: If it can be thought, it can be done. He's a radical environmentalist. Nutty as a road lizard. Real people.

     We parked in the driveway. The front yard grass was a foot high and brown. Nuke was in the workshop. When he saw me, he threw his arms up, ran to me, and lifted me off the floor in a bear hug.

     "I'm back," I said. "Ready to beat the enemy."

     "Wonderful," Nuke said." I'm working on several high-tech toys that you can use in our fight against casinos."

     Nuke was at war.

     "Show me some magic," I said.

     We followed Nuke to a large workbench with several stools in front of it. There was a parabolic antenna hooked to a VCR size black metal box with a computer monitor on it emitting a grayish glow.

Nuke said, AThis is a computer that counts cards in twenty-one. It=s linked with a sophisticated communication system that transmits the information between player and computer.

     "Maximum distance between computer and player?" I asked.

     "Five miles on flat land."

     "Unless you want to be the player, Nuke, it's not for Dogger and me. But the Nadelman brothers might be interested. How much?"

     "One hundred thousand," Nuke said. "No percentage."

     "I know the Nadelman brothers," Dogger said. "They're tighter than Dick's hatband. You couldn't pull a pin out of their ass with a D-8 Caterpillar."

     "I won't play," Nuke said. "Too tedious. But I'll train a buyer and guarantee the functioning of the system for three years."

     "We'll look around," I said. "Dogger's right about the Nadelman brothers. Millionaires, but they still heel food checks. Sharpest dice hustlers on earth. New York hard and culturally deprived. The younger brother didn't even know white guys shot crap till he was thirty."

     "What about that Japanese Yakuza boss from Gardena?" Dogger asked. "He has a million dollar line of credit with the casinos and loves scam."

     "I'll offer him the deal for a hundred and fifty large," I said. "Dogger and I split the fifty."

     "Fine," Nuke said. "Sounds like your Yakuza friend could do some real damage to the enemy bankroll."

     "Nuke," I said. "When I was in the joint, I heard about a hustler called Flipper. He flips coins and has something on it, laying down the story with other scufflers that he has an eye syndrome which lets him see the coin in slow motion, but it's a gaff. This guy has a lot of con and the Chicago mob protects him. He beats car dealers and porn shop owners. The drawback to his gaff is he has to get close to the coin to read the signal, so he has the suckers put the coins under a newspaper or magazine, or puts his hands over the mark's, then calls it.  Flipper wears a joint under his arm that I think might be a kind of Geiger counter. I want you to try to design a quarter that will send a signal to a small receiver over a distance of twenty feet. If you can do that, we'll score big."

     "I can do it if I can design a switch that can withstand the G forces of a tossed coin and find a small enough battery.

    "We're looking at some slot machines with big jackpots," Dogger said. "But don't know what we might run into on security countermeasures."

     "We'll let you know about the Yakuza deal," I said.

     "I'm waiting for a special glass filter on the infrared light project," Nuke said. "When I get it, I'll be close to something spectacular."

     "We're going to Rollie's machine shop," I said. "I'll show him how to make two square quarters into a single hollowed out coin."

     "I'll be here if you need me," Nuke said.

     Dogger and I stopped at a bank and bought a couple of rolls of quarters to match up two coins of the same year and condition.

The True Story of Las Vegas- Episode: The Flying Finn Twins

Here is the file

Wilbur Sanders diary

Casino, the movie, and Johnny Hicks

The movie Casino, by Martin Scorcese presents a better than average of portrait of Las Vegas as it existed in the late 60’s and 70’s. Many parts of this movie are based on actual events and real people. One of the characters in the movie played by James Woods is Lester Diamond, Sharon Stone's boyfriend. Lester Diamond in real life was my longtime friend, John Hicks, son of gaming pioneer Marion Hicks.


There are many other characters in the movie that I had met or worked with in Las Vegas, either at the Dunes or at the Stardust, the real name of the feigned Tangiers run by Robert De Niro. The Algiers Hotel; notice the term Hotel and not Hotel Casino. Lacking a “casino” suffix name because it was sans gambling.
The Algiers was built next to the infamous Thunderbird Hotel, by a partnership of Marion Hicks and others. The others? I will get to that in a minute, but first a little background and facts on Johnny Hicks.
I first met John when I was “breaking in” in the gambling business while working at the California Club. The California Club was built on First Street and Fremont and was just a small casino with four blackjack tables, two craps, one wheel and about 140 slot machines, keno, a snack bar and a very comfortable bar with 50 stools that sat adjacent to the pit. Every rounder, thief and booster called it home. The bartender Big Bob was a weightlifter-bodybuilder around 65 years of age (in 1966) who would shake your hand and about break it until you smiled!
What a place to work. The eye in the sky and on the floor, which we called the eye in the rug, was an old time cheat from Montana, Mike Sarkis. Mike was an expert cold deck operator that worked with many teams. He was hired at the California Club because the owners reasoned “it takes a thief” to catch a thief. They were right as long as you can control the thief. Mike would sit at the bar and watch a blackjack game and count the deck down using a special count of the most important cards for the dealer. If a player was beating us we shuffled or continued dealing down to the bottom of the deck and then reshuffling when cards were still in play on the table. On the contrary we would deal maybe just one hand or two and then shuffle. The theory keeping the most important cards for the dealer in play and the most important cards for the player out of play.
The most important cards for the dealer are first the five, then the six and the four, in that order. If a player sat down and in the first round the fives, and sixes came out, and no aces, Mike would give me the signal to shuffle. If the cards weren’t shuffled the chances of the dealer busting and a player getting a blackjack increase.
Johnny Hicks was also breaking in across the street at Binion’s Horseshoe Club. The Horseshoe was a popular place to gamble, had great food and offered guests a photo opportunity of standing in front of $1 million dollars. They would pose for the free picture, and then have to wait around for the print. A great way of inducing the tourist to gamble.
It was well known on the streets that you better not get caught cheating the house at the Horseshoe, otherwise you might get roughed up. It is alleged (told to me by the Horseshoe Casino Manager) that a dealer was handcuffed on a water pipe for stealing, however he did not steal from the house as suspected, he actually cheated a player. He remained there for several days. When the owner found out he did not steal from the house, she let him go. In other words this type of casino management discouraged stealing.
Hicks was a friend of the Binions and they allowed him to learn the games at the Horseshoe. Bucky Howard was the shift boss at the California Club and his dad Buck Sr. was a floor man at the Horseshoe. Buck senior’s relative was Ma Beachie from Phenix City, Alabama. Hard core gamblers. Hicks would drop in occasionally and I was introduced.
Las Vegas was still a small town and we all socialized after work. Hicks and I became great friends. He had a Cadillac Eldorado convertible and was the man about town. Many of us would frequent the Copa Lounge, Bourbon Street (downtown) and Dirty Sallys. Dirty Sally’s sat at the corner of the Las Vegas strip and Spring Mountain Road. Now the site of the Venetian Hotel. Dirty Sally’s had live music and one single blackjack game with a $10 limit. A great game for suckers. A few of the dealers were bust-out artists. This was not a game to bet serious money.
Hicks had to leave town for a few days and he asked me to take his car to the Cadillac dealer for servicing. Wow, what a chance. I was 21 and I could drive his convertible around town and meet some chicks. So I thought. That morning I took his car in for service, I was in the service line. There was a car in front of me and it moved up and I moved up. I was not real familiar with the pedals and I pushed on the gas instead of the brake to slow down. I rear-ended the car in front of me. This dwarf (little person) with a mid-eastern accent and speech impediment jumped out of the car yelling and screaming. I was horrified. I put about $1,000 damage into John’s car and about $500 to the other car. John would never stop ribbing me about the incident. He thought it was hilarious. I paid off every penny. Not so hilarious.
Hicksie, as his friends would call him, was a real rounder. He loved the women, golf, gambling, drinking and telling old stories about his dad and Meyer Lansky. One morning about 3:00 am I got a knock on my door and it was John. He had been out and was in the neighborhood. He stopped by to show me his dad’s personal pistol. It was a small .25 cal. Handgun. He said his dad carried it all the time. John wanted me to see out it shot. (We were pretty stupid 21 and 24 year olds) I told John we can’t go outside because it would wake up all the neighbors. So we decided to shot at a target in my fireplace. Pretty lame.

The following is an excerpt from the Nevada Tax Commission:
“From information available to the members of the commission (including the reports of the United States Senate committee upon organized crime, commonly known as the Kefauver committee) it is apparent that among the figures recognized as prominently active in unlawful gambling beyond the borders of this state and in nationally organized crime are the Lansky brothers, Meyer and Jake (also known as Jack). The former, in particular, is recognized to occupy a position of leadership in organized crime.
George Sadlo, whose residence for some time prior to the hearing had been at the Thunderbird hotel, is a close personal friend and gambling associate of Jake Lansky. They have operated together in management of gambling enterprises in Florida. Sadlo and Hicks are close personal friends. In 1947 Hicks borrowed $160,000 from George Sadlo. The money was borrowed for use by the hotel corporation in the construction of the Thunderbird hotel and was used for that purpose. At the time of the hearing before the commission it appeared that Jake Lansky had shared with Sadlo in the making of this loan.
Hicks denied any knowledge of Lansky's participation. In 1954 the loan was repaid to Sadlo by Hicks. In 1948 Hicks borrowed $37,500 from Sadlo for use by the gambling partnership. The money was used in the "bankroll" of the gambling operation, the fund which assures ability to meet gambling losses. There is no evidence that Lansky participated in this loan. The loan was repaid by Hicks in 1952. Hicks never reported to the tax commission that either Sadlo or Lansky held any interest in the hotel corporation or in the gambling partnership. The ultimate conclusion reached by the tax commission was that respondents Hicks and Jones were unsuitable persons to hold gambling licenses.”
Pretty interesting associates I would venture to say. Hicks also built the Algiers Hotel next to the Thunderbird Hotel, however there was no gambling because of his unsuitability to hold a gaming license. The General Manager of the Algiers for many years was Jack Walsh, who worked directly for Hicks. The following is an obituary than ran in the Las Vegas Sun:
“Jack Walsh, who as a former Nevada Gaming Commission member helped guide the state into the modern era of gaming, and as general manager of the historic Algiers hotel helped preserve the flavor of old Las Vegas, has died. He was 81."He was on the commission at an important time in the late 1970s when we were running the mob out of town," said local certified public accountant George Swarts, who served on the commission with Walsh.
"He was a man of few words, but Jack was tough on them (alleged mob figures trying to get into local gaming) and voted against them. He had a consistent interest to clean up gaming. The reason you don't have that element today is because of men like Jack."
Fellow board member and retired Reno attorney Peter Echeverria agreed."My fondest memory of Jack is the way he would recite the instance of the applicant who came up for a gaming license," Echeverria said. “Jack would inquire around town -- he knew everyone in town -- and would get the skinny on the applicant that he would present (at the board meetings)."Jack was really good at that (doing his homework). An applicant couldn't just come before the board, say something and walk away. He had to prove it because Jack generally would have the stuff to refute it."
Born Dec. 6, 1914, in Tonopah, Walsh moved to Las Vegas in 1941, the year the United States entered World War II.Soon after, Walsh joined the Navy and served in the South Pacific. After the war, he returned to Las Vegas and joined the Nevada Highway Patrol at a salary of $150 a month.In the late 1940s and 1950s, Walsh served as a department head for the Highway Patrol and for the Department of Motor Vehicles.
In 1961, Walsh took a job he would relish for the rest of his life: general manager of the Algiers. The small hotel was built on the north end of the Strip to handle overflow guests of the Thunderbird, which later became the Silverbird, the new El Rancho, and now is closed.
Walsh served as the Thunderbird's general manager in the late 1950s.
For the past 35 years, Walsh, wearing his ever-present white tamoshanter and smoking his ever-lit pipe belching honey cavendish, was as much a fixture at the Algiers as the chandeliers and tiffany lamps that adorn the ceilings and walls of the old hotel."He and his wife both lived on the property since the very beginning so he was just the lifeblood of the Algiers," said Marianne Kifer, the owner of the Algiers and the daughter of Marion and Lillian Hicks, who built the Thunderbird and the Algiers."He knew everything and knew an awful lot of people in town."It was Gov. Mike O'Callaghan who in 1973 named Walsh to the Nevada Gaming Commission, the legislative body charged with the final authority in matters relating to gaming in the state.Walsh would continue to serve during the administrations of Gov. Robert List and Gov. Richard Bryan, finally retiring in 1985."Jack was as steady as a rock," O'Callaghan said. "His knowledge of Nevada's history and people made him invaluable when making gaming policy. No matter how heated a debate became, Jack never lost his composure and he always sought common-sense solutions to problems."
Sen. Harry Reid, D-Nev., who served with Walsh for four years on the Gaming Commission, also praised Walsh "as an institution in Nevada."Reid said Walsh expressed "genuine concern for the men and women who keep our hotels and casinos running.""The dealers, valets and waiters meant just as much to him as the top executives," Reid said. "He loved Nevada and he loved the people who make Nevada such a vibrant place to live and work. I will miss Jack and so will the whole state."Walsh's reputation for finding simple, workable solutions to complex problems was reflected in the way he managed the Algiers.
When a reporter asked Walsh in 1995 why he kept a turn-of-the century look at the Algiers through the years, he replied: "I like it. A lot of people like it ... There haven't been any big changes. Just pictures and paint."
This is an interesting irony. Walsh’s boss was unsuitable for gaming, yet Walsh was a member of the Nevada Gaming Commission. That is how Las Vegas ran.
Johnny gave me a very special photo that was given to him by his father and Meyer Lansky’s partner, George Sadlo. Sadlo et al had owned a casino in Mexico. It was fully functional with table games and a sports and race book. Sadlo had a panoramic picture taken of the operation that is priceless. If you look real close on the boards in the sports book, you can see the price for the Willard-Johnson heavyweight boxing match in 1916. This picture has never been published however I will provide a link to it down the road.
I still have this picture in my office.
Here is a link to the location of the actual fight:http://www.totallyfreeimages.com/268876/Panorama-of-Willard---Johnson-fight,-Havana,-Cuba
The fight was in Havana were Lansky and Sadlo eventually operated casinos.
I left the California Club and went to work at the Dunes Hotel in December of 1969. I thought I hit a jackpot. Then six or seven months later I was transferred to baccarat. This was like winning an academy award. This just was not an everyday occurrence. Most of the baccarat dealers were over 35 years of age. I was a mere 22. Dealers had worked at the Dunes for years hoping to get a chance at baccarat. It was virtually impossible. That year the United States put a man on the moon. Life magazine decided to do a pictorial of the gentry watching this historical onetime event. One of the picture locations decided upon was the Dunes baccarat pit. Here is a link to the picture of the Dunes baccarat pit with myself standing/sitting on the table watching the moonwalk.
http://images.google.com/hosted/life/f?imgurl=46ab04682961151b&q=dunes%20hotel%20source:life&prev=/images%3Fq%3Ddunes%2Bhotel%2Bsource:life%26hl%3Den%26biw%3D1276%26bih%3D629%26tbm%3Disch
There is a whole story that will be posted down the road about the characters in this picture. See the floor man on the right, sitting on a ladder chair? He could not be fired from the Dunes Hotel. His wife owned a bar in New York that Fidel Castro and his brother would frequent while they were college students in New York.
Look at the actual currency on table. We dealt the game with it. The $500 checks (chips) were only used on occasion. I will tell another story about paper scams (cash), dealing seconds and Dai Vernon, down the road.
After six years as a baccarat dealer I was promoted to floor man. This was as good as it got. You received an excellent salary and a full share of the tokes.
Hicks would visit me at the Dunes and tell me what was going on in his world and occasionally I would stop by his house in the Las Vegas Country Club. He lived near Lefty Rosenthal and his wife Geri. Rosenthal was the executive at the Stardust that gave Siegfried and Roy their big break. Here is a link to some photos of Lefty, Geri, Spilotro (played by Joe Peci), Siegfried and Roy and others:
http://www.google.com/search?q=geri+rosenthal&hl=en&rls=com.microsoft:en-us&prmd=ivnso&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ei=gp7nTc-NJpGssAOxhqSBDg&ved=0CBwQsAQ&biw=699&bih=545
Hicks had told me that he was seeing Geri and that they (Hicks and Geri) took the contents of Lefty’s box and went on a spree.One evening I was invited to John’s place and hung out awhile. John, Pete Griffith, a craps dealer I had known from the Sahara, two or three cute girls and myself. After a few stories etc, I left. A few days later John was murdered either leaving or coming to his home. He was shot behind the ear with a 22 pistol. I tried to contact Pete, but was told by a mutual friend that he left without a trace, indicating he may have seen who had shot John. This mutual friend indicated that Pete was scarred “shitless”. I haven’t seen or heard from Pete since then.
I didn’t go to the funeral, because I was concerned that Pete may have been killed also. I thought that they might have been following Johnny around and that they might be still looking for Pete, and maybe anyone that hung out at his house, including me. I regret that I didn’t t have the guts to pay my last respects to my friend.
Remember the movie casino? John was portrayed in the movie as Sharon Stone’s boyfriend. He was beat up and then tossed into the El Dorado. The famous El Dorado. The movie didn’t tell the truth or get into the area of concern as to who killed Johnny. 
After some research a certain reporter said the following:
“Geno, 
Nice to hear from you. Most of my information on Johnny Hicks's final days comes through his running mate at the time. 
I think everything you stated about Hicks is right on the money. I think Tony killed him, or perhaps he had Joey Hansen or one of his other friends do it. Cullotta was never suspected of it to my knowledge. 
It's interesting. My knowledge of Cullotta is pretty fair, and I don't think he was often used as a hitter. He is called a hit man, of course, and I don't doubt he participated in several murders. He also admitted shooting Jerry Lisner in Las Vegas. But other people in Spilotro's crew have told me Cullotta wasn't trusted like some of the other guys. He worked hard to get involved with Tony and worked his way next to him. That irked a lot of Tony's loyal friends (Blitzstein, etc.) 
But as to the Hicks murder, it certainly would have been Tony depending on how much heat was on him at the moment. He was quite clever, switching cars, wearing disguises, etc. 
As to specifically who pulled the trigger, I will ask Cullotta when he's available again. 
It's funny. Spilotro, the Italian-American, was the mob guy. But what does that make all the casino executives who catered to him or turned a blind eye to his activity? 
In this town, the ability to dummy up has been raised to an art form. 
Your friend, “????????????
Years later a dealer friend of mine from the Dunes, Gene Strolien, called me and said that he was taking a guy around that was making this motion picture about Las Vegas. Gene was familiar with my work and wanted to have the “guy” watch me go through the moves.
I was in my first store at the MGM Grand in about 1994 when Gene and “guy” stopped in unannounced. He introduced me but it went right over my head. I did the moves and we briefly talked but I was busy with customers that day. Gene and I talked and he said I was too clean cut looking for the part in what was going to be the movie “Casino”. But if the topic of Johnny Hicks came up, Scorsese would have dug deeper and probably talked for hours. Gene did not know that I knew John Hicks, nor did I know that John would be a character in the movie.
Little did I realize that it was Martin Scorsese that auditioned me.
In the movie they have a scene wherein Hicks (Lester Diamond) is roughed up and thrown in his car. This did not happen in real life. Instead of the beating, they murdered Hicks.

I was at John’s house three days before he was murdered.

Letters from Faucett Ross (1962 to 1973)

A collection of letters from Faucett Ross to Roger Klause written in 1962 to 1973. 

Dai Vernon and Roger Klause Correspondence

Marlo's Reviews of Slydini, Hamman, Miller et al.

The following documents are  Ed Marlo’s reviews of various performers.  Some very interesting comments on John Hamman, Alex Elmsley, Slydini, Charlie Miller and Jerry Andrus.