Karmin, Monroe W. and Penn, Stanley.
Las Vegas East.

U. S. Gamblers Prosper in Bahamas With help From Island Officials. Top Local Political Leaders Grant Casino License, Also Receive Consultants' Fees. Is There Link to U.S. Crime?

Wall St. Journal Oct 5, 1966

But U.S. Authorities are after bigger fish—Meyer Lansky, the notorious Florida mobster who ranks high in the U. S. crime syndicate. The Lansky reputation is so black that the Nevada Gaming Control board barred him from Las Vegas casinos. U. S. officials suspect that Lansky controls or gets a piece of the profits of the Lucayan Beach casino.

One bit of evidence: for many months, until Bahamian Government officials invited them to leave the islands, Dino Cellini and George Sadlo were prominent figures at the Lucayan Beach casino. Both are known Lansky cronies.

Roles Described
One man in a position to know many of the intimate details of the casino operation describes the role of Cellinin and Sadlo this way: "Cellin and Sadlo were Lansky's men. At the closing of the casino each night, all of the boxes were taken from the tables and brought into the counting room. There were three sets of keys to the boxes, but it was very important that either Cellini or Sadlo be present before a box was opened.

If indeed George Sadlo journeyed to the Lucayan Beach counting room on many a night to see to Meyer Lansky's interests, he was bringing with him a good deal of previous experience. Testimony before the Kefauver Committee in 1950 showed that Meyer Lansky and his brother Jake, along with George Sadlo, operated illegally the Club Boheme gambling casino in Florida. An accountant for the casino testified that, "At the end of the night … after they close each table, they take the money and put it in the cashier's cage and they count it down."

"Who counts it?" asked a committee investigator.

"Mr. Lansky," replied the witness.

"Personally?"

"Yes; or Mr. Sadlo, or whoever is there with him."

If some of the Lucayan Beach casino's profits are, in fact, being "skimmed off the top" by the Lansky crowd, U.S. authorities suspect they are being used to finance the activities of American hoodlums.

Such suggestions draw staunch denials from the Nassau police. Sitting in his office in the police barracks, S. R. Moir, assistant commissioner, is every inch the stiff, proper, tight-lipped Britisher. "No evidence," her replies to inquiries concerning mob infiltration of the casino and the possibility of skimming profits off the top.

Mob Infiltration Denied.
The president of the company that operates the Lucayan Beach casino rejects reports of mob infiltration as "completely untrue." He is Keith Gonsalves, a former employee of Barclays Bank, and his company is Bahamas Amusements, Ltd., which is part of the Groves group. Bahamas Amusements is required to pay all profits to the Grand Bahama Development Co., a land development firm, which is controlled by the Grand Bahama Port Authority, in turn controlled by Mr. Groves.
To confirm the integrity of the casino's operation, Mr. Gonsalves has ready a lengthy position paper. It mentions the presence of two security officers, hired on the recommendation of the police, who "have access at all times to all casino operations, including access to the countinghouse and records." Yet, the fact remains that the security officers are not policemen, are not employed by the government, but are employed by the company that runs the casino.

The Gonsalves paper also notes that the casino's books are audited by the firm of Peat, Marwick, Mitchell & Co.

Despite Mr. Gonsalves' assurances, suspicion persists, favored by the presence of Ritter, Courtney, and Brudner in the Lucayan Beach casino. Just when this presence began is not clear, but it certainly dates back to the spring of 1963.
Then the Lucayan Beach hotel was in an early construction stage. When the gambling license was issued in April 1963, meetings were arranged to convert a planned convention hall into the casino. Someone who attended a session in Miami recalls that Ritter and Courtney were brought in to help with the designing. "They were the experts on casinos," he remembers. There are those unkind enough to suspect that the convention hall was intended to be a casino all along.
Ritter and Courtney—along with Lansky crony Dino Cellini—were especially important in setting up the casino.

To remove any taint of Las Vegas and to give the Lucayan Beach casino "class" it was publicized widely that only European croupiers would be employed.

Accordingly, a school was set up in London in early 1963 to train the European croupiers (they are not especially adept at the American game of craps). Apparently no effort was spared. The finishing school cost the casino $250,000.

"Cellini, Courtney and Ritter were sent over to start the school and to instruct the people," an insider recalls. "They returned to the Bahamas with 100 croupiers.
Ritter, Courtney and Brudner were allowed to remain on Grand Bahama after Cellini and Sadlo departed. Mr. Gonsalves explains why: "It was necessary to have Americans in some key positions because more that 80% of the patrons of the (Lucayan Beach) casino are United States citizens; and Messrs. Ritter, Courtney and Brudner and other professionals were employed because of their previous professional experience in gambling in the United States."

Ritter bears the title of credit manager; Courtney, chief supervisor; and Brudner, casino floorman. But Ritter is obviously the key man. Credit is vital to the casino profits. Most gamblers come to win, not lose, so they don't bring all their money. When the luck runs bad, the trick is to know just how much credit to extent to whom. That's where Frank Ritter shines. His knowledge of the financial status of American gamblers, plus his contacts with the Las Vegas casinos, makes him an expert on "instant credit"—and where to draw the line.

This talent was observed at the Lucayan Beach casino recently. It was late, and only a handful of hard-core gamblers remained. Among them were two brothers from the States. One was playing with $100 chips in a closed game at the blackjack table. He was losing heavily; his brother already had lost quite a bit. They both came to Frank Ritter for credit. "You're all right, " barked Frank to one, "but not him," jabbing his finger at the other.

The incident raises an interesting, but unanswered question. Granting Frank Ritter's expertise at his job, he's still human. Suppose he makes a mistake. Suppose a borrower fails to pay up after he returns to the States. Who duns him for the debt? The mob? That's what U.S. investigators want to find out.

The casino is a sore point with many Bahamians. Mr. Pindling of the opposition party whose distress doesn't extend to favoring a shutting down of the casino, pledges: "If we came into power, we would renegotiate the entire casino license. Our concern is to eliminate all possible gangster influence."

Also distressed is the upper crust of Nassau society. Dining on the veranda of their spacious home, a banker and his wife view the distant Lucayan Beach casino as an "error of taste and judgment." They refuse to believe that American mobsters have infiltrated, but they fear the "potential" is there The thought of an "offshore Las Vegas," as they term it, horrifies them.

And the man they blame for the mistake is Sir Stafford Sands, a huge man who, according to an acquaintance, "lives like an emperor." His Nassau estate, "Waterloo," comes complete with private lake.

Sir Stafford has a penchant for expensive lounging jackets and elaborate paperweights. He's addicted to the grand gesture too. "At a dinner for four, he'll have caviar for a hundred," says a friend.

"Brilliant, Genius"
Friend and foe alike regard Sir Stafford as the mastermind behind the Bahamas' tourist boom (this year a record 80,000 are anticipated). And all descriptions of him, sooner or later, converge on the words, "brilliant" and "genius." Even Mr. Pindling, who seeks to oust the United Bahamians, admits that, if successful, he'd like Sir Stafford to remain as minister of finance and tourism.

A tiny glimpse of the man's power, and the way he uses it, is provided by the letter that Sir Etienne Dupuch, the Senator and Tribune publisher-editor, wrote to him acknowledging receipt of his consultant's fee from the Groves-controlled Grand Bahama Developing Co.

The letter would seem to suggest that Sir Stafford shoved Sir Etienne, who has criticized gambling editorially, into accepting money from the casino crowd. Read:

"You had talked with me briefly on this proposal but I did not realize it had been finalized."

"I am sure you know that I am not happy about having casinos in the islands but since a casino has been established at Grand Bahama, I am concerned to see that a high standard is maintained. If you think that my services in this way might be helpful, I shall do my best but I want to feel that this is an arrangement that can be terminated at any time by either side.

"I told you at the time that this arrangement must not in any way be considered as influencing my decision in the Senate or the policy of the Tribune. You agreed to this condition.

"I would readily give you my services free of charge but since you insist on paying me what you say is the normal fee for this kind of service I shall deposit the money to a special account I have in the Royal Bank of Canada for helping children and other charitable purposes."

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