Mayor reflects on Moe Dalitz, godfather of old Las Vegas
As the 12-year run as the star of his hit one-man show "Happiest Mayor in the Universe" draws to a close, I suppose it's possible the abundant ironies of Oscar Goodman's public service have become lost on him.
Who would ever have believed a mob lawyer could successfully reinvent himself? Who would have handicapped that the mob mayor would become so popular he'd essentially be re-elected by acclamation?
I guess it's too late for Goodman to land a Reality TV show, but the story line has a made-for-primetime feel. And irony flashes like a neon marquee.
On Monday in Goodman's City Hall office, a place festooned with bobblehead dolls that all nod in affirmation -- not unlike the City Council, come to think of it -- the godfather of the new downtown entertained questions from Suzanne Dalitz, daughter of the godfather of the old Las Vegas, Moe Dalitz. A former journalist, she is working on a memoir of life with her father, and I'm helping her collect stories about her dad.
Although labeled a high-ranking associate of organized crime most of his life, Dalitz was never convicted of a felony. Dalitz and his Cleveland pals developed the Desert Inn and finished the Stardust. In later years he built the Sundance downtown. He is thought to have played an integral role in the controversial but highly profitable relationship between the Teamsters Central States Pension Fund and the Las Vegas casino industry. Through his partnership in Paradise Development, Dalitz also had a role in constructing Sunrise Hospital and other nongaming buildings.
Any man whose Wikipedia entry describes him as a "Jewish American bootlegger, racketeer, casino owner and philanthropist" is a fellow after Goodman's own heart. The mayor knows something about how difficult it can be to rebrand a reputation.
Goodman said his interactions with the Strip's elder statesman came mostly in social situations at the Las Vegas Country Club, which Dalitz helped build.
"He was like E.F. Hutton," Goodman said. "When he talked, everybody listened. They had different reasons why they listened, but they listened. He was remarkably respected. I never heard anybody, even law enforcement people, ever say anything critical of the way he conducted himself here in Las Vegas.
"That doesn't mean to say they wouldn't be critical of his reported history, that they knew nothing about, and they didn't know him as a person. But when they met him, there's certain people you meet in life that when they walk into the room, even if you don't know their name or what their background is, they have a certain charisma about them. The truth of the matter is, when Moe walked into a room, for some reason, I don't think it was tangible or tactile, I just think it was visceral. He demanded respect."
Goodman didn't represent Dalitz, but he watched the aging boss move through the country club with an impressive grace. Many who knew and respected Dalitz believed in the power of Las Vegas to forgive a guy's past.
I'm guessing it's something Goodman can relate to.
"But that was the beautiful thing about Las Vegas ..." he said. "Folks who had issues in the cities from which they came were able to come out here and start with a clean slate and take them for their value and their worth for what they did here. I really believe that."
It's all supposition, of course, but I believe the godfather of the old Las Vegas would have loved to know downtown is coming back to life after struggling for so many years.
And I suspect something else would occur to him: If a cocky mob mouthpiece can reinvent himself in a town like Las Vegas, there's hope for the memory of Moe Dalitz, too.
John L. Smith's column appears Sunday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. E-mail him at Smith@reviewjournal.com or call (702) 383-0295. He also blogs at lvrj.com/blogs/smith.
