One-time organized crime fighter recalls brushes with the mob

Some in the Metropolitan Police Department agreed.

Clifford is an in-your-face kind of guy. He made enemies on both sides of the law as well as with politicians and gaming figures.

His rise to power in 1979 stemmed from his support of John McCarthy for the sheriff’s job. When McCarthy defeated incumbent Ralph Lamb, the 33-year-old narcotics detective with six years on the force was elevated to commander of the Intelligence Bureau. It was a four-year gig that ended when McCarthy lost to John Moran, who planned to bust Clifford back to a street cop. That’s when Clifford left the department and entered the real estate business.

But what a four years.

Clifford turned the Intelligence Bureau upside down, pushing out the old guard and filling it with officers he trusted. As a result, he made enemies within, who tried to get him into trouble. There were allegations, even investigations, but in the end, Clifford was never charged.

He used the tools he had to fight the mob, even though they were controversial. “We used the traffic laws, misdemeanor laws, whatever we could. … I was sued six times for a total of $56 million, and all were dismissed,” he told an audience Tuesday at the Clark County Library as part of Mob Month.

One $22 million civil rights case involving the 1980 shooting death of Frank Bluestein took five years before fizzling. But fizzle it did.

Two intelligence officers surveilling a mob hangout on Maryland Parkway saw a new guy come in, talk to mobsters Tony Spilotro and Frank Cullotta, and leave with a pizza. They followed the man to find out who he was and in the end, he was shot and killed after pulling a weapon on the plainclothes officers.

The dead man was the son of Steve Bluestein, an official with the Culinary union with mob ties.

Later Clifford learned there was a contract hit out on the two officers: David Groover and the late Gene Smith.

Clifford, a compelling storyteller, described trying to meet with top mob bosses in Chicago to warn them off. But they ducked him. So he went to Chicago attorney Allen Dorfman and said if they killed the two officers, he’d come back with 40 officers and kill anything that moved.

Wouldn’t he be outnumbered in Chicago? “I’ve got 40 trained men. You’ve got 400 goofballs,” Clifford remembered saying.

He left and was told that if he didn’t get a call, the contract was still on.

If he got a call and the caller said, “Have a safe journey home, Commander,” the contract was off.

About 2 a.m., he got the call with the telling words. And the story became front-page news.

While that’s the stuff of movies, it was surprising to learn about the more mundane mob activities.

When hidden ownership in casinos brought down the heat, mobsters delved into stealing foodstuffs — sugar, coffee, butter, meat and seafood — and selling them to casinos and businesses at discounted rates, yet fattening mob coffers.

“The mob made millions doing that,” he said.

Honor among mob thieves was a myth, according to Clifford.

Clifford described how mob lawyer Oscar Goodman received $20,000 cash for his legal fees. Because it was late, Goodman didn’t have time to bank it, so he took the cash home and went out for a social engagement. When he returned, someone had kicked a hole in his wall and taken the $20,000 back. “I rather enjoyed that,” Clifford smiled.

His opinion about Goodman, the mob lawyer who won three terms as Las Vegas mayor?

Another smile.

“I’ll take the Fifth.”

Jane Ann Morrison’s column appears Monday, Thursday and Saturday. Email her at Jane@reviewjournal.com or call
702-383-0275. She also blogs at
lvrj.com/blogs/morrison.