While the mayor and others wax nostaligically over the passing of Frank "Lefty" Rosenthal, journalists are less likely to be wearing rose colored glasses.  These are some of the people who saw first hand the arrogance of Rosenthal and his crew (including his buddy, Tony Spilotro) as well as their criminal activities.

From the RJ's (and my pal) Jane Ann Morrison:

The few times Frank "Lefty" Rosenthal and I spoke, he looked at me as if I were a worm he'd like to step on, except the ensuing goo would dirty the sole of his shoe. Actually, I found the fastidious Rosenthal scarier than mobster Anthony Spilotro, and no one accused Rosenthal of killing dozens of people.

Now I've been on the receiving end of plenty of cold stares, but Rosenthal really gave it his all and his cold stare did a number on me when I was a federal court reporter between 1978 and 1984. Our first face-to-face encounter was during that period when he was unofficially running the Stardust when naïve California businessman Allen Glick was the owner. The Chicago Outfit put Rosenthal in. They used the nickname "Crazy" when they spoke of him.

He had various titles, from food and beverage director to entertainment director, but it was no secret he was concerned with more than how many blueberries were in a blueberry muffin and how tall the show girls were.

One day I was asked to be part of a panel of a few reporters to ask Rosenthal questions on a local television news show. I don't remember the exact date, but it was about the time he was running the Stardust, the Hacienda, the Marina and the Fremont, but didn't have a gaming license. When the time came for me to ask my first question, I caught Rosenthal's eye and froze. It seemed forever before I thawed out and had the sense to look at my notes and read a question.

In the game of intimidation, it was one for Frank, zero for Jane Ann.

The next time we spoke, he was leaving the federal courthouse wearing that silly hat he wore to cover his hair plugs. I tried to joke with him about what I assumed was his appearance before a grand jury meeting that day, asking whether he had spilled his guts. Maybe it was the hat and the awful hair plugs, but The Glare didn't turn me into a pillar of salt.

The last time I spoke with him was after he had cooperated with writer Nick Pileggi to write "Casino," the fascinating book that captured the Las Vegas of the 1970s and 1980s. Martin Scorsese's movie "Casino" was about to come out in 1995. Figuring Rosenthal was in the mood to talk about his Las Vegas days, I called him in Florida and said I'd like an interview. It was a pretty short conversation. Fortunately, I take rejection well.

Rosenthal had become a part of my daily life by then because of the memento that sat atop my computer.

Rosenthal's Cadillac exploded in 1982 in the parking lot between Tony Roma's and Marie Callender's on Sahara Avenue, just as he was getting in. While it was never solved, he said he didn't think the bombing was the work of the Boy Scouts.

I wasn't on the scene until the next day and spied a wire attached to a small piece of metal where the car had burned the asphalt. I didn't presume it was part of the bomb, but I did presume it was part of the car and for years it sat atop my computer in the newsroom, reminding me of a time when a car bombing did one of two things: It killed you. Or it sent you a message.

Rosenthal got the message and moved to Florida the next year.

About a month after the 1982 car bombing, his ex-wife Geri died in Hollywood from an apparent drug overdose. She was 46.

Spilotro, whose affair with Geri destroyed his friendship with Rosenthal, was murdered and dumped in an Indiana cornfield in 1986, courtesy of his mob bosses. He was 48.

Of the three, only Rosenthal died a natural death. This past Monday, the sports handicapper, whose lasting legacy was creating the first sports book in Las Vegas, had a fatal heart attack at 79.

My memories are fairly tame, but I know this: I'm not the only one who was on the receiving end of the Rosenthal Glare, which combined contempt with a touch of loathing and a hint of murderous rage. If you've seen it, you don't forget it.

From John L. Smith:

When I first heard Robert DeNiro had agreed to play a character based on Frank "Lefty" Rosenthal in the Martin Scorsese movie "Casino," I couldn't stop grinning.

It was just about perfect. I imagined Rosenthal, a man possessed of a positively gigantic ego, almost allowing himself to be impressed. DeNiro, Brando, Olivier, with the ghost of Cary Grant mixed in for good measure: That would have been ideal by Rosenthal's measure of himself and his place in gambling's Pantheon.

When I first learned from street sources Tuesday that Rosenthal had died of natural causes Monday in Florida at age 79, I didn't smile but only shrugged. A few months ago he'd promised me an interview, but I wouldn't agree to a small condition -- that he not be asked questions about his days as a Stardust casino executive, friend of Tony Spilotro, car-bombing survivor and Black Book member.

In other words, almost all the stuff that made his crazy life worth writing about was off-limits. Details of his death were sketchy, but a variety of sources said Rosenthal died of an apparent heart attack and was found at home by his daughter, Stephanie. Independent sources confirmed Rosenthal had placed his last wager and set his final line.

Here's a sample of reactions from locals who knew Rosenthal at the height of his power.

"It's been said you should never speak ill of the dead," one former federal organized crime prosecutor said. "There are exceptions to the rule. Frank Rosenthal is one of those exceptions. He was an awful human being."

Upon hearing the rumors of Rosenthal's demise, a longtime Spilotro friend said, "I hope it's true."

To settle such disputes, I like to turn to the irrepressible gambler Lem Banker, who knew Rosenthal well and respected his handicapping knowledge -- as well as his game-fixing skill.

"He was an egomaniac," Banker said. "But he was a smart sonofabitch."

Right on both accounts. Rosenthal arrived in Las Vegas from Chicago via Florida in the early 1970s and handicapped out of the Rose Bowl sports book, where the action was surpassed only by the Runyonesque characters. Marty Kane and Joey Boston worked for Rosenthal and became two of the most successful sports bettors.

How could they fail? They were allowed to fill out their betting slips after the games were concluded. Marty and Joey preceded Rosenthal in Black Book inclusion and death.

Banker respects Rosenthal's gambling acumen, but admits the guy would cheat a blind pencil salesman if given the chance. Activities such as past-posting illegal bookmakers and skimming casino profits were in Rosenthal's blood.

What's less appreciated is Rosenthal's tenacity. Call it a survival instinct or an expression of his egotism, but he fought like a cornered wildcat to keep a foothold in Las Vegas. He used attorney Oscar Goodman to sue everyone from Metro to state gaming authorities.

"He was a put-his-face-in-your-face type of guy," Mayor Goodman said. "He had no quit in him, and as a result didn't make any friends in law enforcement."

He won temporary reprieves, including a brief reversal of his 1988 Black Book inclusion, but in a changing Las Vegas, Rosenthal couldn't fade the heat.

Even his use of a weekly TV adulation fest called "The Frank Rosenthal Show" did little to keep him in the legal action. The man who helped write the "Outlaw Line" would remain an outlaw.

I think he stayed angry the rest of his life as he whiled away the years in consummate comfort in Boca Raton and Miami Beach, where he took up residence in a condominium in the Fontainebleau's Tresor Tower. (A Fontainebleau employee on Tuesday confirmed Roenthal's death.) He kept busy with his Web site, his handicapping, and a radio show.

Scorsese's "Casino" gave Rosenthal more than the best of it to the dismay of those who knew the truth about the Stardust's Frank-and-Tony show.

"The portrayal of him by Robert DeNiro was, as far as depicting his exterior, impeccable," Goodman said. "But as far as what made him tick, only Rosenthal knew that."

After "Casino," you'd think Lefty's ego would have finally been sated. Hardly.

Even 10 years after his inclusion on the "List of Excluded Persons," Rosenthal audaciously told me, "You couldn't put out a newspaper without Frank Rosenthal."

What he lacked in stature in the new Las Vegas, Rosenthal more than made up for in unabashed self-confidence.

He would ask, "Who 'invented' the modern sports book?"

Frank Rosenthal, of course.

Who brought vision and innovation to the casino industry?

Mr. Frank Rosenthal!

All true. But who fixed ballgames and cheated bookmakers from coast to coast? The right-handed guy nicknamed Lefty.

Who could justify a life underwritten by the Chicago Outfit and argue with a straight face that he wasn't associated with gangsters?

Only Frank Rosenthal.

You remember him.

He was in all the papers.

Later today, I'll be posting about yesterday's Historic Preservation Summit and more news including our upcoming panel on the MGM Grand Fire of 1980.

Stay tuned.

One of the most notorious names in the 1970s-1980s history of the Las Vegas Strip was Frank "Lefty" Rosenthal.  The inside guy, the made man, the mob's point guy, they were all used to describe him. 

We've written extensively about his history at the Stardust and his impact on the history of the Las Vegas Strip here:

http://classiclasvegas.squarespace.com/a-brief-history-of-the-strip/2008/4/8/the-stardust-hotel-history-dark-days-of-the-mob.html

Well, word came tonight that Frank "Lefty" Rosenthal passed away in Florida at the age of 79.  His obituaries will no doubt be filled with descriptions of his life here in Las Vegas and how he was immortalized in the Marty Scorsese film "Casino" where he was portrayed by Academy Award winner Rober DeNiro. (Though for our money, DeNiro was always better looking and more suave as "Ace" Rothstein than Rosenthal ever hoped to be.)

But lost in most of the chatter will be the real story of his rise and very public fall here in Las Vegas.  His passing is yet another nail in the coffin of the over-emphasized myth of the Mob running Las Vegas.

To his credit, he did create the modern Race and Sports Books that many enjoy today.  To his credit, he opened the first modern one in the Stardust Hotel and that industry has never looked back.

Mayor Oscar Goodman said today ""He was the innovator and creator of what we know today as the race and sports book in Las Vegas with all the modern accoutrements...He was an uncanny bettor and won a lot more than he lost."

While the Mayor framed Rosenthal in a favorable light as the type of boss who represented the best of Las Vegas, in terms of how to run a good casino, there are many journalists and federal agents who will remember Rosenthal in less favorable terms for the thug and bad element he was.

He ruled the Stardust with an iron glove, had a late-night television show that is remembered mainly as bad television and is remembered for being behind the skimming of millions of dollars from the Stardust Hotel.  (see the link above for details).

He tried to bribe the Nevada Gaming Commission, hinted that he had bribed Harry Reid (accusations that were proven untrue) and with his friend, Tony "The Ant" Spilotro threatened Channel 8 news reporter Ned Day.

He and Tony Spilotro became the demarcation line for those who talk about the mob and Las Vegas.  Their ruthlessness and thuggery wrote new chapters in crime in Las Vegas in a way that never would have been allowed or condoned by the mobsters of the post-war era.

Locals of a certain age all remember him best for the car-bombing outside Tony Roma's on East Sahara that almost cost him his life.

Which, only goes to prove, I guess, that he will remain as controversial in death as he was in life.

From the late edition of the Las Vegas Review Journal

His childhood was spent learning the gambling trade through illegal bookmaking operations run by organized crime figures from the Midwest. He made connections that fueled his rise and instigated his downfall later in Las Vegas.

Rosenthal was born June 12, 1929, in Chicago and spent the 1930s in Chicago. When he arrived in Nevada in 1968, he discovered that gambling could not only be profitable but a ticket to prominence in a place where his occupation was the subject of reverence, not scorn.

"When I was a kid growing up in Chicago, if you walked around with a ... card in your hand, you were subject to be arrested or harassed, at least," Rosenthal said in 1997 during an interview with the PBS program "Nightline." "On the other hand, if you want to go to Las Vegas, Nevada, you can do the same thing and be quite respectable."

The word "respectable" was a loaded phrase when it came to Rosenthal.

When he moved to Las Vegas, he had already gained some level of notoriety for an appearance in 1961 before a Senate hearing on gambling and organized crime during which he invoked Fifth Amendment protection against self-incrimination 38 times.

An indictment in California in 1971 for conspiracy in interstate transportation in aid of racketeering helped prevent the bookmaker Rosenthal from getting a Nevada gaming license, a situation that angered him for years after he left Las Vegas. A 1963 conviction stemming from an attempt to bribe college basketball players later landed him on a short list of people excluded from Nevada casinos.

But lack of a license didn't stop him from holding sway over operations at the Stardust, Hacienda, Fremont and Marina casinos when they were owned or controlled by the Argent Corp., and financier Allen Glick. Glick was the purported front man for Midwestern mob bosses who controlled the casinos through Argent, which was funded in part through loans from the Teamsters union.

During an interview with a magazine reporter in 1975, the unlicensed Rosenthal landed himself in hot water with regulators when he said, "Glick is the financial end, but the policy comes from my office."

Rosenthal's problems were exacerbated by personal and business connections to reputed mobster Tony Spilotro.

Spilotro wound up being indicted in a skimming scheme, along with about 14 others, which also sealed Rosenthal's fate with gaming regulators, who ended up putting both men in Nevada's Black Book of persons excluded from casinos.

Spilotro also wound up having an affair with Rosenthal's estranged wife, Geri, a situation law enforcement authorities later claimed as evidence Spilotro tried to kill Rosenthal.

"Obviously there were things going on," Rosenthal told the Fort Lauderdale (Fla) Sun-Sentinel in 1995. "There are more tricks in the trade than I can ever describe to you. But I think some of it (the federal inquiry) was exaggerated."

Later in the Sun-Sentinel story, Rosenthal acknowledged there was little chance he could escape the notorious shadow of Spilotro.

"In retrospect, his reputation and the fact that we were boyhood friends — there was no way for me to overcome it," Rosenthal told the newspaper.

Others' suggested that Rosenthal was more than just boyhood friends with rough characters.

The Sun-Sentinel story included claims by Glick that Rosenthal made lethal threats when he didn't get his way.

Glick paraphrased Rosenthal's approach as, "If you interfere with any of the casino operations or try to undermine anything I want to do here ... you will never leave this corporation alive."

But in the end, it was Rosenthal who was on the wrong end of lethal threats.

On Oct. 4, 1982, in a parking lot outside a Marie Callendar's restaurant on East Sahara Avenue, Rosenthal turned the key in his Cadillac and ignited a fiery explosion that ruined the car but didn't kill him.

Rosenthal left Las Vegas after the bombing but remained in the headlines throughout the 1980s as the government sorted through the dirty laundry of the Las Vegas gambling industry in myriad court proceedings.

Rosenthal also sought to appeal his spot in the Black Book, an effort that was denied in 1990.

At the time then-Gaming Control Board member Gerald Cunningham said allowing Rosenthal back into the business would represent, "a threat to Nevada's gaming industry."

The 1995 movie, "Casino," directed by Martin Scorcese and starring Robert DeNiro as a Sam "Ace" Rothstein, was essentially an idealized version of Rosenthal and boosted Rosenthal's fame later in life.

He also maintained a Web site that offered gambling "tips and tricks."

On Tuesday, Goodman said there was a side to Rosenthal that was largely unknown to moviegoers, gambling regulators and business associates.

"What I saw through representing him since 1972 until I was elected a mayor was a different side, a loyal friend and a loving parent who doted over his kids," Goodman said.

Rosenthal himself told the Sun-Sentinel his Las Vegas story was poorly told, especially by those in law enforcement.

"Rumors and bull(expletive)," he told the paper. "That's the No. 1 industry in Nevada."

Ever curious about the early days of Las Vegas?  Ever wonder how they carved a city out of the desert?  Want to know how a small railroad town became the Entertainment Capital of the World?  Or just curious about little known stories?

Then join us for "The Families Who Built Las Vegas" on Wednesday, Oct. 15th at the Nevada State Museum.  Our roundtable participants include:

Donna and Gail Andress, Mary Carmichael Cashman, Mike Pinjuv and Emmett Sullivan.

Reception is at 6:00 pm

Discussion begins at 7:00 pm

Admission is $3.

Nevada State Museum

700 Twin Lakes Drive

Lorenzi Park