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Hey Discos, if you want more Disgraceland, Be sure to listen every Thursday to our weekly After Party Bonus episode where we dig deeper into the stories we tell in our full weekly episodes. And in these After Party Bonus episodes, we dive into your voicemails and texts, emails and DMs and discuss your thoughts on the wild lives and behavior of the artists and entertainers that we're all obsessed with. So leave me a message at 617-906-6638 disgracelandpodmail.com orisgracelandpod on the socials and join the conversation every Thursday in our After Party Bonus episode. Given the volatile political situation in Cuba, the Mafia hedged their bets by building a second gambling empire, this one in Las Vegas, Nevada. They invested millions at a time when that really meant something. Frank Sinatra was asked to use his star power to attract other entertainers and thus gamblers to the mob's new playground in Las Vegas. And Frank did just that. Once Cuba fell to Castro in 1959 and the mafia lost their Havana casinos, Las Vegas became even more important to the Mob's interests. Years before, Frank Sinatra had been asked to become a partner in a mob run establishment. A star like Frank, with an ownership stake in a Vegas hotel and casino guaranteed big bucks for the bosses. And somehow, despite being in major debt to the IRS in the early 1950s, Frank Sinatra was allowed by the Nevada State Gaming Board to invest in the Sands Hotel and Casino and retain a 7.5% ownership piece. Mob boss Frank Costello was the majority owner and Meyer Lansky, Joe Adonis and Tony Accardo from Chicago, Sam Giancana's boss at the time, also owned stakes. In October 1953, Sinatra performed at the opening of the Sands and he packed them in. The casino hotel was off the ground and running and Sinatra was thus earning for the mob big time. The mob called upon Frank again, this time in 1960, and Frank once again came running. They wanted Frank to be part of another hotel and casino ownership group. This one was on the California Nevada State line, an existing but financially failing establishment called the California Neva. Frank's celebrity could infuse new life into the joint. Along with Frank Sam Giancana, who by then was the boss of Chicago and one of the most prominent mafia leaders in the country, owned a massive stake in the hotel. The Cal Neva was a big hit on opening night. In attendance were not only Sinatra and Giancana, but also the former United States Ambassador to the United Kingdom and one time mob bootlegger, Joseph P. Kennedy and his son, the US Senator and presidential candidate, John F. Kennedy, along with his date, the most famous woman in the world at the time, Marilyn Monroe. Handsome Johnny Roselli was there too, of course, as were the FBI surveillance agents assembling what would become over the years the biggest FBI file on any entertainer in history. And that entertainer was of course, Frank Sinatra. Just take a minute to appreciate this astonishing scene. You have one of the richest men in the world, Joseph P. Kennedy, a former ambassador, who by the way was there with a date, not his wife. At the same party. You have his son, a senator and a man who at that time had a massive national profile because he was running to become the next president. And he's married and he's there at the same party with his dad who's with his mistress. And he, JFK is there with a date, even though he's married too, and his date is literally the most recognizable woman on the planet, Marilyn fucking Monroe. And, and, and the room is stacked full of known gangsters. Sam Giancana by that point was such a notorious criminal that was he wasn't allowed to enter any casino throughout the state of Nevada. The Cal Neva was built on the state line and the structure straddled both states. Giancana was forced to stay on the California side. Only this was not a secret. The gangsters, the corrupt former ambassador, the adulterous and brazen senator, the glamorous movie star mistress With Frank Sinatra at the center of it all and the FBI listening and snapping pics. Sinatra's friend, the ruthless killer Sam Giancana, had something else in common with Senator Kennedy. They shared a girlfriend, knowingly with a woman named Judith Exner. Sam Giancano, wily Mafioso that he was, knew that he would one day be able to leverage Exner against jfk, a man Giancano was going to make the President of the United States States with the help of Frank Sinatra. Just like the story of the Mafia freeing Sinatra from Tommy Dorsey's contract by making the bandleader an offer he couldn't refuse. We've come to accept the fact that Joseph P. Kennedy cheated his son's way into the White House by using Frank Sinatra as an intermediary between the Kennedy campaign and the Mafia. And that Giancana fraudulently impacted the vote to help the Kennedys, first in the Democratic primary in West Virginia and then in the general election in Illinois. We look upon this story now as both a fact and as a cute, sly little historical anecdote. No serious historian disputes it. Yet today, any mention of electoral fraud sends people on both sides of the political spectrum into online hysterics. But again, we take it as gospel that the Democratic nominee used the Mafia to cheat his way into the White House with the help of our man, Frank Sinatra. We accept it because it's demonstrably true. Because that's how much power the Mafia had back in 1960. John F. Kennedy became President, and Sam Giancana and Frank Sinatra put him in the White House. Yet the President's brother, who is now the Attorney General, Robert F. Kennedy, the most powerful law enforcement officer in the country, would not stop his crusade to destroy Giancana and the Mafia. And RFK wouldn't stop because the FBI's J. Edgar Hoover played RFK, a recorded phone conversation between his brother, the married President, and his girlfriend, who was also Sam Giancana's girlfriend. That conversation was recorded on a phone call that Judith Exner made to JFK from Sam Giancana's house. As far as Bobby Kennedy was concerned, Sam Giancana had to go. It was jail or bust. And Frank Sinatra, he was out as well. The President was, per his brother's instructions, under no circumstances, allowed to carry on his friendship with Frank Sinatra. Frank Sinatra was too close to Sam Giancana. Frank was too gangster. But Frank wouldn't be denied. Frank couldn't be denied. Frank needed his relationship with the President so that he could remain in place as the conduit between the President and the Mafia and thus remain in good standing with Sam Giancana. You're only as good as your next envelope. But again, Bobby Kennedy wasn't having it. Bobby Kennedy increased his pressure on the mob. More surveillance, more subpoenas, more arrests, more deportations of mob bosses. Sam Giancana wanted to know where the Kennedy kids got their balls. Giancana got them elected, and now they betrayed him. The Kennedys, once elected, were supposed to put the mob back into Havana, not into prison, which is what RFK was coming dangerous, close to doing. Sinatra was Giancana's only hope. The Mafia had given Frank so much, and now the Mafia really needed something from Frank. They needed Sinatra to get the Kennedys to back off. Frank tried, but Frank was out. So Frank threw a Hail Mary. Frank invited President Kennedy to his Palm Springs home for. For some much needed R&R. JFK loved Frank's palm Springs pad. It was private and filled with beautiful women. It's where JFK first slept with Marilyn Monroe. JFK said yes. He was coming to Frank's, and Frank was gonna save the day. He'd talk to Jack, get Jack to talk to Bobby. To back off Sam and the boys, Frank built new quarters on his property for the Secret Service. Frank had a helipad installed. Frank spared no expense. And then Frank got ghosted by the President at the last minute. Bobby had prevailed. Making matters worse, JFK still went to Palm Springs, but he stayed at Bing Crosby's place. Bing was Frank's rival on the charts and worse, a Republican. The humiliation. Frank Sinatra was out and Sam Giancana was pissed. Frank had no juice. Bobby Kennedy was on a warpath. Sam and the rest of the boys had no choice. And John F. Kennedy was now dead. Now, from Washington, government sources say that President Kennedy is dead. Sixteen days after the Mafia conspired with the CIA to murder Frank Sinatra's friend, the the sitting President of the United States, Frank sat in his Palm Springs home, wracked with grief and fearing that because he'd outlived his usefulness, that the Mafia was going to kill him next. That's when the unthinkable happened. Frank's son, Frank Sinatra Jr. Was kidnapped. The kidnappers weren't fucking around. Either they wanted $250,000 in cash, or Little Frank was about to become dead. Little Frank. Frank knew that in moments of crisis, when you really need something taken care of the right way, like that mess back in Havana with the dead Cubans. When the chips are fully stacked against you, your first call is your most important call. Sinatra picked up the phone. And before he called his wife, before he called the cops or the FBI, he dialed the number of the one man he believed could help him get his son home safely. Mob boss Sam Giankana. Sam Giancana had his ways of making men talk. Most of them included Sam Mad Sam DiStefano, a sadistic enforcer. But this wannabe Nevada cowboy wouldn't talk. The boys from the Cal Neva pegged him as someone with info on the kidnappers. Frank Sinatra Jr. Just 19 years old at that point in time, launching his own career as a performer, was booked to perform in At Harrah's Lake Tahoe Casino, about 12 miles from the Cal Neva. But instead, room service. Frank Sinatra Jr. Opened the door to his hotel room and found himself staring down the barrel of a gun in his face on the fucking ground. Within seconds, two intruders had Frank Jr blindfolded and bound. They escorted him out of the hotel at gunpoint, remarkably without any other hotel guest noticing, and whisked him away in their Chevy Impala. In Chicago, Sam Giancana dispatched Jimmy the Weasel Fratiano to get to the bottom of where Frank the Voiced Sinatra's kid was being held. The Weasel turned up this cowboy, and Now Mad Sam DiStefano wanted to know if the cowboy preferred the ice pick or the blowtorch. The cowboy cowboyed up. The blowtorch. It was. The cowboy screamed in agony. Back in Palm Springs, Frank Sinatra was understandably getting antsy. It had been nearly 18 hours since Junior had been kidnapped. The local authorities hadn't turned up any leads, and Giancana's boys weren't doing much better. The cowboy felt the ice pick pierce his skin above his kneecap and he screamed in horror. Still, he didn't give anything up. By this time, Frank had decided to fly out to Reno himself to help in the search. Frank needed further assurance that his son was going to be returned safely. Frank hedged his bet, and when Frank landed, he immediately went to the FBI, to their makeshift command center to help the feds in their efforts. Frank felt he couldn't count entirely on Sam Giancana. Mad Sam distefano switched from the ice pick to something more convincing. He laid the beaten cowboy down on the table and put his head in the vise. And while the cowboy urinated all over himself in fear, one of Mad Sam's muscle men swung a sledgehammer at his ankle and sent his foot into an ungodly 44 degree angle. This time there was no scream. This time the pain was so brutal, the cowboy could only huff out short breaths of air in uncontrolled bursts. Meanwhile, over in Reno, the kidnappers had made contact. They demanded a quarter million in cash. In Palm Springs, Frank's instincts kicked in. Ever the gangster, Frank called on his bagman experience and brought a bundle of cash with him. On the FBI's recommendation, Frank put $250,000 in a suitcase. Frank was understandably anxious, as was Mad Sam. The cowboy wouldn't talk. The cowboy wouldn't give up. The whereabouts of Sam Giancana's friend Frank Sinatra's kid. The cowboy wants to be a fucking cowboy. Time then, for the Cattle prod. Mad Sam had his own portable prod, customized for occasions just like this. The voltage was calibrated for maximum pain, but not enough to kill first. He placed the prod on the cowboy's eyelids. The cowboy's defiance was impressive. Then the inner thigh. The cowboy pleaded for Mad Sam to stop. Stop. He knew what the next stop on the torture trail was. The genitals. But still he gave Mad Sam nothing other than pleading in defiance. So Sam had no choice. The prod hit the Cowboy's testicles with 5 milliamps of current and 2000 watts, and still the near dead gave up nothing. When Frank Sinatra hit the location for the drop back in Reno, everything went hooey. The kidnappers got antsy and split with Frank Sinatra Jr. Down to LA. Frank knew Giancana had nothing. And Frank began to suspect that Giancana himself was behind the kidnapping. A warning to Frank to keep his mouth shut about the Kennedy assassination. Frank had no choice. He needed to call in the big gun. To do so, he first called Peter Lawford. Frank knew he couldn't call Peter's wife, Patricia Kennedy, directly. He was still Persona non grotto at the Kennedys. But he knew he could get his friend Peter Lawford to get a word in with his wife. And he knew that there was a chance that Peter's wife would think of Frank fondly after the time they'd spent together. And thus, there was a chance that she would call her brother, the Attorney General of the United States, the man who controlled the FBI. Sam Giancana's mortal enemy, Robert F. Kennedy. That's exactly what happened. And despite whatever animus Bobby had toward Frank, Bobby pledged to use his power to help Frank get his son back. The message came back to Sinatra from our RFK through Patricia and then through Peter Lawford. And it was this. I know how Frank feels about me, but please tell him everything is being done and we'll get his boy back as soon as possible. While Giancana's men finished off the cowboy by impaling him with a meat hook through the rectum. And while Giancana's other men tortured and killed two more street tufts at the they incorrectly suspected had information on the whereabouts of Frank Sinatra Jr. Bobby Kennedy flooded Reno in Los Angeles with more FBI agents. He ordered roadblocks at the borders of the state and random police checkpoints throughout California and Nevada. Bobby put the word out. No one was going home until Frank Sinatra got his son back. While the search came continued, Bobby eventually called Frank himself to further assure him Everything would be okay. And he was right. Three dipshits, two of whom were former high school classmates of Frank's daughter Nancy, eventually arrived at a separate drop point, this one in la, to pick up the ransom money. This time, the money was delivered by Bobby Kennedy's G Men, not by Frank Sinatra, the bag man. With the money in hand, the kidnappers freed Frank Sinatra Jr. Within 48 hours, all three kidnappers were arrested. Frank Sinatra did something that a lot of gangsters do when they're cornered, when their mafia families can't help them. He went to the feds for help. When Sam Giancana came up with bupkis, Frank cooperated with the government. Sure, he didn't rat anyone out, but he did do what some mafiosi would consider unthinkable, something that many, many gangsters have been forced to do or otherwise face unthinkable truths. Life in prison, the death penalty. Two fates almost as bad as losing a child. It's hard to blame Frank, but then again, you and I aren't gangsters. Justice wasn't doled out by Sam Giancana, but by the US Court system. Barry Keenan, the ringleader of the kidnapping caper, got life in prison. He served four and a half years. Joe Amsler, the dumber of Barry's accomplices, caught a 75 year sentence. He served three and a half years. John Irwin, the most cooperative of the three, got 16 years. Ultimately, he served less than two. But three other men who had absolutely nothing to do with the kidnapping were tortured and killed by Sam Momo Giancana on behalf of his friend Frank the Voice Sinatra. No doubt Giancana shook this off as no big deal. It was amongst the Italians. He was helping out a friend, helping out a fellow gangster, which was, without a doubt, a disgrace. I'm Jake Brennan and this is Disgrace. All right, hope you dug this episode. Apple podcast listeners, make sure to have auto downloads turned on so you guys never miss an episode of Disgraceland. This week's question of the week is, is Frank Sinatra the most gangster musician of all time? And if not, I want to know who is. Hit me up. Let me know. There are a lot of contenders. 617-906-6638. Leave me a voicemail or send me a text and be part the of.
