The Promoter

The Promoter

By

Sean Fitzgerald

.

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 Sean Fitzgerald

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Table of Contents

Part 1 - 'Cincinnati' Sam

Part 2 - Doris Reagan aka Laura Talmadge

Part 3 - The Race

Part 4 - The Governor

Part 5 - . . . Randolph Elliott. . .

Part 6 - The Fight

Part 7 - The Hearing

About the Author

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my mother, Henrietta McNeese McMenama and my wife of forty years, Norma Jean Osten McMenama, without whose love and devotion it would never have been possible.

A Special Thanks

To my daughter, Karren Gess, for her persistence, dedication, and inspiration in the preparation of this manuscript. From, a loving father.

An Old Gamblers Refrain

When I die, don't bury me deep; leave one hand free to fleece the sheep

Part 1

'Cincinnati' Sam

April, 1956. . . Somewhere in Tennessee

The drive had proceeded smoothly since he passed Memphis; hence he knew they were making good time. They would make Lewiston on schedule. The night air was cool with the top down on the Cadillac. When traversing an endless stretch of road, his concentration always wandered and long, dead memories began to develop in this cloud of unreality.

Jed loved coming back to this land in the spring. There is no earthly experience equal to it. The thoroughbred is supreme in this state and the Derby is the most honored race of all. He felt like an ancient warrior borne home again with his trophies of war. Let the race commence.

He tried unsuccessfully explaining the emotion he felt to others, but had long since given up hope of their ever understanding. The spring is a time of renewal, a time for re-capturing the dream of olden days.

He glanced at his slumbering companions, comfortably adrift in their own world, oblivious to the cares of mere mortals. Sam slept with his head against the door, while Doris lay bundled under a coat in the rear seat.

During long nightly sojourns like this, he sometimes played mind games involving the past and the present. He first thought of Sam and their many years on the road together. He knew that time was a thief and absolutely relentless, yet it was difficult to believe the years had melted away so fast.

Their relationship was special. He had known that the first day they met. In their world of easy money and fast friendships, permanency is a difficult commodity to hold onto. It's as elusive as mercury.

Being twenty years his senior, Sam gave him balance and stability. He kept his poise in difficult situations and his knowledge of people and their reactions to problems was uncanny. He brought a lot to the table in the way of qualifications.

His youth, like most in his generation had been difficult. Only the indestructible survived. Raised across the river in Newport, he drifted to Cincinnati and haunted the local track for any kind of work. He was a stable hand which meant mucking the stalls plus feeding and caring for the animals.

Those jobs lasted for a short time until he started to bet and found a better way to make money. With knowledge of thoroughbreds secure in his mind he began traveling to different tracks. As a gambler he became known to one and all as 'Cincinnati' Sam.

At this juncture in his life while he was acquiring both money and fame, a terrible thing happened. He fell in love. The old adage of 'Lucky at cards, unlucky in Love' applied to his situation.

He fell hopelessly in love with a woman of low morals and ill repute. He took her to bed and wed. The miracle being that they lived together for five years. Between his prolonged absences, her many infidelities and their irreconcilable differences, the final reality seemed divorce.

Suddenly, one day fate intervened when his mate turned up missing. He was working in Hot Springs at the time, dealing Stud Poker in a private club. When she failed to appear, her relatives complained to the authorities and a week later, the Arkansas State Police called him in for questioning.

They grilled him hard for several hours but finally caved in when he failed to crack under pressure. None of his inquisitors had mentioned those time honored words 'Foul Play' but it was certainly on their minds.

He was finally released for two reasons. First, there was no corpus delecti and secondly he had an airtight alibi. It was inconceivable that he could be in two places at the same time. No one could multi-task that well.

He immediately returned home to continue the search for his beloved but no trace of her was ever found. Even her relatives, formerly hostile, rallied to the grief stricken man's aid.

On the flip side of the coin, his friends considered it even money that she now laid at the bottom of the Ohio River.

During their long tenure together she was never discussed and Jed judiciously never asked. However, he did notice that every time they passed over the bridge leading into the city, Sam always glanced at the water below and smiled.

Years after the event, he and Jed met for the first time. Their paths crossed one rainy night in 1946 during a game of poker at the Hi-Ho Club in Chicago. By that time he was almost a derelict and an alcoholic. His reputation was severely tarnished. It was only through the kind benevolence of an old friend that he was able to make the buy-in of $10K which allowed him to play.

The old friend in question was Joe 'The Dodge' Spano, a millionaire restaurant owner from New Orleans. Sam had given him many winners over the years at the local tracks and was now calling in his marker.

'Ice Pick' Willie Francesca owned the club and was involved in illegal activity on the north side of the city. His presence was everywhere, from gambling to loan sharking. He had a working relationship with the local mob and the club was his headquarters. He had only one burning passion and that was poker.

Every year he invited the best gamblers in the country to a no limit game that sometimes lasted for days. Every player was well known but there was one stipulation: a ten grand minimum was required to enter.

Jed was at the Belmont track in New York when he received the call from Willie. He immediately took the next train to Cleveland where he borrowed the necessary capital from his uncle, Papa Joe Roselli.

Sam was taking the 'cure' at a spa in Arizona when he was notified. He advanced his treatment so he could attend. This might prove a 'new beginning' for him where he could re-establish his diminished reputation amongst his peers.

Jed arrived in the late afternoon, checked into a nearby hotel and waited for night to fall. He had an early supper and left for the club shortly after 8:00 p.m.

Outside, it was raining but inside it was like Times Square on New Year's Eve. The band was raucous and the drinks were flowing as he checked his raincoat with the beautiful blonde attendant.

He introduced himself to one of the bouncers and was taken upstairs to Willie's lair. They passed through his office and into the private gaming room. It was roomy, efficient and well decorated with pictures of horses lining the walls.

He shook hands with Willie who welcomed him warmly and was then introduced to his fellow card players. The last man he talked to looked completely out of place in these surroundings.

Hello, I'm Jed Irish. He offered his hand.

I'm Sam Kinkaid, glad to meet you.

I know you. He pointed. You're Cincinnati Sam.

Your Honor, I plead guilty. He rose on wobbly legs. I see that my reputation has preceded me.

Would you like a drink from the bar? He asked the legendary gambler.

That's an excellent idea. Whiskey is the only thing free in this room. He followed Jed on unsteady pins.

Jed ordered Jack Daniels neat and as they imbibed, talked on many subjects, especially sports and women. The conversation was casual and superficial until Sam made a significant statement.

By the way, I knew your father. This was surprising news.

Where did you meet? He was curious about the circumstances.

Many years ago, I was in Cleveland to see a friend when my curiosity led me to the Reno Club looking for a game. I asked who the best card player was and the answer came back straightaway, Jim Irish."

How big was the game?

It was loaded with big time players and a lot of money was on the table. Early on the cards fell great and I thought it was going to be a banner night. However, your father deflated my ego very quickly and I finished without a nickel or a dime or a friend.

What was his secret?

He could look into your eyes and read your soul. He knew instantly if you were bluffing or not.

How did the two of you get along?

He bought the drinks until almost dawn then staked me to a bus ticket home along with a few dollars to tide me over. He was a great man and I'll never forget him. The two men raised their glasses together as a sign of respect.

Perhaps tonight . . . Jed was attempting to bolster his morale. . .Lady Luck will be at your elbow.

Perhaps you're right. He smiled. Winning a big poker game seems like a worthwhile proposition.

At that moment, Willie notified one and all that the game would now commence. The players quietly took their seats and introductions were made. Jed was seated to the left of Sam.

The attendees were Whitlow Bryant, Legal Counsel to the Partagna family in Los Angeles. 'Fat Man' Walter Byrnes, literally and figuratively the largest bookmaker in the country and last but not least, Sal Dinetti, a local gangster with the big time connections, plus Jed, Sam and Willie.

Two of Willie's men were stationed at the door, making sure of no interruptions. A bartender was also present as well as Tom Neal, Willie's accountant, who acted as the 'Bank' for the game, exchanging chips for cash or vice-versa.

Gentleman, please give me your cash. Neal invoked. He took each man in turn placing the cash in a small box that would remain in the safe until it came time to settle up at game's end. Additional chips were plentiful and for sale.

Gentleman . . . Willie's voice commanded respect. . .These are the rules. This is a dealer's choice, no limit game. However, a player may leave at any time, using his own discretion.

He opened a fresh deck of cards, spread the 52 pasteboards face down on the table then used that weather beaten phrase 'High Card deals'.

They each selected one and Whitlow Bryant was the winner with an Ace of Diamonds, and then proceeded to shuffle the cards. Seven card stud He stated bluntly. Twenty dollar ante He threw a chip in the middle of the table and they responded in kind.

As play commenced, Jed noticed a heightened sense of nervousness among the participants. He had seen this phenomenon before when big money was in the offing. In a game of friendly adversaries, everyone believes they are the better player. However, the time eventually comes when that theory is tested. In a game of chance a good bluff is the ultimate test of wills.

However, occasionally there are more important considerations. When playing against your fellow man, reputations are often worth more than gold.

Play started slowly and in the first few hours, the banter was cheerful, expectations were high but very little money was won or lost.

The group was very compatible with the exception of Dinetti. The more he drank, the more abusive he became toward Sam. No one could ascertain the source of that hostility until finally, he revealed himself.

Do you know Murray Abrams? Dinetti asked.

Everyone knows Murray. Sam answered.

Is this inquiry relevant to the game? Willie asked.

It's just a friendly question among friends. I only wanted to know if Mr. Kincaid knows Murray.

I still fail to see the relevance.

Five years ago in a game in New Orleans, Mr. Kincaid gutted poor Murray and hung him out to dry. The poor man tried to kill himself. However, at this too he was inept, yet he survived to tell the tale.

Sal, if you bear me some grudge because of what happened to poor Murray, you must be terribly hard pressed for friends.

Murray works for me now. He takes care of my books.

I'm disappointed to hear that. It doesn't say very much for your knowledge of people. I can't fathom why anyone would hire poor Murray for anything.

He says that game was crooked and you stole his cash.

Murray is a fool and a liar. I can't make it any plainer than that. I'm sorry for his predicament but I didn't do it to him. He did it to himself.

Was the game crooked?

No. It was on the level. Ask anyone who was there. Sam paused. When play started he had been drunk for three days. He played wildly, bet foolishly and lost heavily.

When I told him I was coming to this game, he warned me that I couldn't beat you and advised me against playing.

When Murray is at his best. . . He paused. . .He is a flaming, arrogant asshole. I can understand why you're such good friends, being so much alike. He smiled.

Dinetti became inflamed and was about to rise from his chair when Willie applied pressure to his forearm, forcing him to remain seated.

Very well. . . He placed his hands on the table and steadied them. In deference to Willie I'll let that remark pass but I'm warning you Kinkaid. I'm going to do to you what you did to Murray.

Can we resume playing poker? Willie asked.

I'll bet a hundred the 'Fat Man' responded and everyone followed suit.

The flashpoint of danger had passed but everyone knew the undercurrents were still there, seething below the surface like a volcano ready for a giant eruption.

The certitude of another uprising was absolute, but until that time came, play went on.

Over the next few hours, the tides of fortune shifted in one player's favor and then another, but no one was 'King of the Hill'. They waited on tenterhooks for another confrontation between the two adversaries and it eventually came.

Jed was dealing a game of seven card stud when the inevitable happened. The first two cards are dealt face down, the next four cards are up and the last card is down. As if divined by the Gods of Poker, the two men had the best hands.

I bet $500 Dinetti spoke while looking at his last card.

Call $500 and raise $1,000 Sam replied very quietly.

Call your paltry $1,000 and raise $2,000. He smiled.

Call $2,000 and raise $5,000 Sam said. He knew he now had Dinetti boxed in a corner.

I haven't got $5,000 to call the bet He stated the obvious.

Then I will accept your marker.

Dinetti began counting his chips. I have $4,000 on hand, therefore I will write an I.O.U for $1,000 to call the bet and I raise an additional $5,000.

Sam studied him intently before reacting. I call the bet. He put his chips in the pot which by now had grown to monumental proportions.

That's foolish pride, old man. Foolish pride when you used to be a poker player before you became a 'has been'. Now comes the moment of supreme triumph. I have a full house, Aces over Kings. He turned over his cards and a hush went through the room.

Sorry to delay your moment of triumph, Dinetti . . . Sam spoke as he was raking in the pot. . .But I have a little more than a run of the mill flush, I have a straight flush. He turned over the seven of clubs to match the 8, 9, 10 and jack of clubs lying in plain view.

This was the equivalent to striking a dagger into the Italian's heart.

No one spoke for several moments. There was dead silence as the nonbelievers awakened to reality. Then pandemonium broke loose and the shouting became intense. Sam received congratulations all around. The entire world loves a winner.

Then, the sound of defeat emanated within the room. Dinetti slammed his chair into the wall behind him and stood up in righteous anger.

I can't believe it. He shouted and stomped his foot. I lose the pot of a lifetime to an old rummy. I'm going to kill you.

I have only one thing to say to you, Sal.

What's that?

Deal, cried the losers. He rubbed his hands in glee, smiled at his bewildered opponent and raked in the chips.

With those last words out of his mouth, Sal went over the table after him. However, Willie had anticipated his anger and intervened.

He withdrew a switch blade from his pocket and slammed it with great ferocity into the middle of the table, straight through the seven of clubs. This show of force slowed Dinetti's resolve and he was forcibly returned to his seat by Willie's bodyguards.

Salvatore, I'm trying to control my anger and restrain myself from beating the crap out of you. You're trying my patience to the limit. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?

I'm sorry Willie. I lost my temper. He spoke like a petulant child.

That doesn't explain your behavior. If you have some personal vendetta against Sam, take it elsewhere and settle the matter. This game is important to me and I will not have it end in a brawl.

I said I was sorry. Sal lowered his head and sulked.

Listen to me. . . Willie removed the knife from the table and held it under his chin, pointing it straight at his throat. . .I don't like you and I never will. You need to be in therapy or in a cell with doctors examining you all day.

Then why did you let me play?

Because you have powerful friends in high places and they interceded on your behalf. I only agreed to let you play as an accommodation to them.

Well, it's his fault. Sal pointed an accusing finger at Sam. He cheated Murray and now he's cheating me.

Are you telling me I'm a crook and this game is fixed?

No. I'm saying he's the crook.

Are you then saying that this is a giant conspiracy? He paused. Are you suggesting that these men came from all over the U.S. just to defraud you?

The cards are crooked. He switched them.

Sal, these cards were bought randomly. I personally vouch for their authenticity. I hope you're not inferring they are marked.

If it wasn't cards, it had to be the dealer.

Jed was dealing. He pointed. He and Sam had never met before tonight.

I still say I was cheated. He would not yield in his argument.

Sal, if you're calling me a crook I will be forced to take drastic action. I will be compelled to put a cap in your ass and drop you in Lake Michigan.

"You