My "Mob" Memories. . .

The Miami Herald has an article today on "Vegas Celebrates Its Mob Roots" with two new "gangsta" attractions. Reading it took me back to my "mob" experiences in the late fifties.

Pre-Castro, my pr firm represented Cuba's famed Tropicana Nightclub in the US. Those were the days when all Havana's casinos were mob controlled.

Post-Castro, I was hired to do publicity for a very upscale new motel on Miami Beach's Gold Coast. (See picture postcard of Motel Row in this era.) I was vaguely aware that The Aristocrat, as it was called, was owned by mob VIP, Meyer Lansky, who had also owned the Tropicana, but my dealings were only with Mike Wassell, the resort's very gentlemanly front man. The government, propelled by Senator Estes Kefauver, was after Lansky in those days and was attempting to try him in a Hollywood (FL) courtroom, but according to the Miami papers, Meyer was in a local hospital and much too sick to appear.

I came home from visiting my client one day and remarked to my husband that Lansky wasn't sick in the hospital. I had just seen him, playing gin rummy, as usual, in the back office at The Aristocrat. My husband, who was a New York boy, and more savvy about such things than I, said "Joan, you saw no one." When I protested, he said "Believe me.You saw no one."

I was aware that whenever Lansky was at the resort a great bear of a man we called Philly was always around, seemingly as his body guard. The older men called him Farvel, but he was always very nice to me in a grandfatherly kind of way. The resort's social director was a popular young stand-up commedian named Bobby Collins and he and I became great friends. Bobby later became a very successful criminal attorney.

I was young and cute (you'll have to believe me on that!) and one day a male guest was really annoying me. Philly came over to ask me if the guy was bothering me. Before I could say anything, Bobby rushed over and assured Philly that he wasn't. As Philly walked away, Bobby whispered to me "Never tell Philly someone is bothering you. Are you looking to get the guy's legs broken??"

That evening my mother and dad were visiting from New York and I was telling them the story over dinner. My dad said, "Did you say they call him Farvel???" When I said yes, he got visibly upset. "Oh my God, Joan," my father sputtered,"Farvel is Murder Inc.'s executioner! That's the mob's killer you're friendly with."

I guess my dad knew what he was talking about,because in 1961,the cut up body of nice grandfatherly Philly, aka Little Farvel, was found floating in a steel drum in a local rock pit. Apparently, somebody didn't like something he did.

So much for my life with the "mob". Let's face it, I've had some interesting clients over the years. Wouldn't have missed all those crazy memories for the world.

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