The Quiet Don: The Untold Story of Mafia Kingpin Russell Bufalino Read Online Free
Author: Matt Birkbeck
document about background checks at state horse tracks. Fumo’s staff spent weeks rewriting the bill, and when it emerged from the Senate on July 1, 2004, it was now one hundred and forty-five pages long.
Known as the Pennsylvania Race Horse Development and Gaming Act, and commonly known as Act 71, the bill authorized slots gambling throughout the state and paved the way for 61,000 slot machines at fourteen casinos at yet-to-be determined sites. Table games, such as blackjack and poker, weren’t included in the bill, though there was an understanding those games would eventually be part of the mix. Debate on the bill began on Saturday, July 3, and the voting went down party lines, with Rendell, Fumo and Mellow pressing hard on the Democratic majority in the House and Senate, which followed its leadership and approved the legislation.
Pennsylvania had casino gambling, and Periandi had his antenna up.
Miller had been on vacation that holiday weekend in Ocean City, Maryland, but at the behest of Rendell spent most of his time on the phone assuring fence-sitting legislators that the police supported the initiative. Both Miller and Periandi were Rendell appointees, and the reality of the situation called for Miller, as commissioner, to follow the administration’s lead. But privately, both Miller and Periandi had grave doubts about the legislation, and it took just a few weeks for those doubts to be confirmed, but in a way Periandi never imagined.
Just a week after the vote, the police were summoned to a closed-door meeting with John Estey, Rendell’s chief of staff, and Greg Fajt, the secretary of the Department of Revenue, which was the agency charged with overseeing the early creation of the new gaming initiative. Estey and Fajt said that Rendell expected quick clearances on background checks of favored Rendell appointments to the newly created Gaming Control Board. Included among them was Frank Friel, a former Philadelphia police officer whom Rendell appointed as the gaming board’s first chairman. In addition, there would be several favored candidates applying for slots licenses. Among the names mentioned was Louis DeNaples, an immensely powerful businessman from the Scranton area with deep political ties and long-rumored associations with organized crime who had coincidently just announced his intention to buy the shuttered Mount Airy Lodge Resort in the Poconos and apply for a slots license.
“We’re not going to have any problems with this,” said Estey, directing his command to the state police liaison, Captain Ron Petyak.
After receiving the edict from Estey, Petyak went back to Periandi with the disturbing news.
“This is not what you think this is. It’s a setup,” said Petyak. “I think this is a scam and we’re being used.”
Periandi and Petyak immediately went to Miller, and his response was measured, acknowledging Petyak’s concerns but telling him and Periandi to stay the course and follow the administration’s lead.
“You should also know the governor is going to appoint Frank Friel as the gaming board chairman. He has a problem,” said Periandi.
“You’re kidding,” said a surprised Miller.
“No, I’m not. I already know some of the issues and you may want to let the governor’s office know it may not be smooth sailing,” said Periandi.
Friel once headed Philadelphia’s Organized Crime Task Force and had claimed that during his tenure, he played a key role in prosecuting members of that city’s Mafia in the 1970s. But Periandi knew from his days heading BCI that Friel had been closely watched by internal affairs after police learned of his friendship with a boxing promoter with alleged mob ties. Friel had also allegedly misrepresented his academic credentials and had been named in a 1974 Pennsylvania Crime Commission report as being one of a group of police officers who allegedly took bribes from a Philadelphia club owner.
Miller again told his subordinates to stay the
Known as the Pennsylvania Race Horse Development and Gaming Act, and commonly known as Act 71, the bill authorized slots gambling throughout the state and paved the way for 61,000 slot machines at fourteen casinos at yet-to-be determined sites. Table games, such as blackjack and poker, weren’t included in the bill, though there was an understanding those games would eventually be part of the mix. Debate on the bill began on Saturday, July 3, and the voting went down party lines, with Rendell, Fumo and Mellow pressing hard on the Democratic majority in the House and Senate, which followed its leadership and approved the legislation.
Pennsylvania had casino gambling, and Periandi had his antenna up.
Miller had been on vacation that holiday weekend in Ocean City, Maryland, but at the behest of Rendell spent most of his time on the phone assuring fence-sitting legislators that the police supported the initiative. Both Miller and Periandi were Rendell appointees, and the reality of the situation called for Miller, as commissioner, to follow the administration’s lead. But privately, both Miller and Periandi had grave doubts about the legislation, and it took just a few weeks for those doubts to be confirmed, but in a way Periandi never imagined.
Just a week after the vote, the police were summoned to a closed-door meeting with John Estey, Rendell’s chief of staff, and Greg Fajt, the secretary of the Department of Revenue, which was the agency charged with overseeing the early creation of the new gaming initiative. Estey and Fajt said that Rendell expected quick clearances on background checks of favored Rendell appointments to the newly created Gaming Control Board. Included among them was Frank Friel, a former Philadelphia police officer whom Rendell appointed as the gaming board’s first chairman. In addition, there would be several favored candidates applying for slots licenses. Among the names mentioned was Louis DeNaples, an immensely powerful businessman from the Scranton area with deep political ties and long-rumored associations with organized crime who had coincidently just announced his intention to buy the shuttered Mount Airy Lodge Resort in the Poconos and apply for a slots license.
“We’re not going to have any problems with this,” said Estey, directing his command to the state police liaison, Captain Ron Petyak.
After receiving the edict from Estey, Petyak went back to Periandi with the disturbing news.
“This is not what you think this is. It’s a setup,” said Petyak. “I think this is a scam and we’re being used.”
Periandi and Petyak immediately went to Miller, and his response was measured, acknowledging Petyak’s concerns but telling him and Periandi to stay the course and follow the administration’s lead.
“You should also know the governor is going to appoint Frank Friel as the gaming board chairman. He has a problem,” said Periandi.
“You’re kidding,” said a surprised Miller.
“No, I’m not. I already know some of the issues and you may want to let the governor’s office know it may not be smooth sailing,” said Periandi.
Friel once headed Philadelphia’s Organized Crime Task Force and had claimed that during his tenure, he played a key role in prosecuting members of that city’s Mafia in the 1970s. But Periandi knew from his days heading BCI that Friel had been closely watched by internal affairs after police learned of his friendship with a boxing promoter with alleged mob ties. Friel had also allegedly misrepresented his academic credentials and had been named in a 1974 Pennsylvania Crime Commission report as being one of a group of police officers who allegedly took bribes from a Philadelphia club owner.
Miller again told his subordinates to stay the
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