← DISGRACELAND
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- [00:05]
Jake Brennan
Double Elvis Hey, Ryan Reynolds here from Mint Mobile. Now I don't know if you've heard but Mint's Premium Wireless is $15 a month. But I'd like to offer one other perk. We have no stores. That means no small talk crazy weather we're having. No it's not. It's just weather. It is an introvert's dream. Give it a try@mintmobile.com Switch upfront payment.
- [00:31]
Ryan Reynolds
Of $45 for a 3 $15 per month equivalent required. New customer offer first three months only then full price plan options available, taxes and fees extra. Cmnobile.com with TikTok ads our revenue went up $10 million year over year during back to school season. Penn Foster is online education. TikTok is great because the reach is incredible for finding a lot of different types of audiences on the platform. Creator content at scale allowed us to easily develop and distribute creator led ads. Our return on ad spend for TikTok is 21% higher than the next best channel.
- [01:01]
Jake Brennan
Start growing your business today. Head over to get started.TikTok.com TikTokads Disgraceland is a production of Double Elvis. The stories about Tommy James and the Shondells are insane. He was obsessed with guns, his hits were sanctioned by the mafia, he was heavily addicted to pills and a one time supplier of speed to the Vice President of the United States. Tommy James came up during a time when the music industry was in part controlled by New York's Italian mafia, and for a period in the 1960s that power was centralized at Roulette Records. The record label was run by convicted extortionist Morris Levy and operated in partnership with the Genovese crime family. This was where Tommy James made some of his greatest hits. Great music. Unlike that music I played for you at the top of the show, that wasn't great music. That was a preset loop for my melotron called Frank's nice and sleazy mk2. I played you that loop because I can't afford the rights to Monday Monday by the Mamas and Papas. And why would I play you that specific slice of Wrecking Crew cheese? Could I afford it? Because that was the number one song in America on May 21, 1966. And that was the day Billboard magazine reported that the rights to re release Tommy James in the Shondel's regional hit Hanky Panky had been purchased by Roulette Records, an event that would drastically alter the course of Tommy James life and very nearly lead to his death. On this episode, music The Mafia Mony Mony and Tommy James. James and the Shondells. I'm Jake Brennan and this is disgrace. Tommy James was exhausted. The black beauties helped. That's what they were called on the street anyway. Speed amphetamines. Late 60s heads used them to stay up all night to counter the grass. Soldiers over in Vietnam relied on them to stay awake on overnights in the shit. The soldiers were also relying on Vice President Hubert Humphrey to get them out of the mess that that President Lyndon B. Johnson had landed them in. It was 1968 and there didn't seem to be an end in sight for the Vietnam War. But if the VP and current candidate to replace President Johnson had a plan, the country didn't yet know about it. Tommy James waited in his midtown high rise for the car, struggling to keep his eyes open despite the late morning hour. He contemplated another pill. The car would be on time. The Vice President had sent it. Tommy James had been up all night. There was another sold out Coliseum show the night before. His group, Tommy James and the Shondells were flying high. One of the biggest in the country and abroad with massive top 10 hits beginning in 1966 with Hanky Panky continuing into 67 with I Think We're Alone now and into 68 with the movie Monster. Smash. Mony Mo Ne. Currently, the song was everywhere. Tommy heard it that morning on the radio in his apartment while waiting for his ride. He remembered back to writing that song in that very apartment. Stuck with his songwriting partner for hours, trying to find a word to hang the chorus on. Boney Boney. That wouldn't do. What about Phony Phony? Nah, that didn't make much sense. They sat on Tommy's outdoor patio, sharing a joint overlooking the Manhattan skyline, searching for an answer to unlock the riddle that was their song. And there it was in big neon letters staring back at them. The flashing Mutual of New York sign atop the insurance company's building at 1740 Broadway, a couple blocks from Tommy's building. The first letters of each word spelled it out for them. M, O, N, Y. Mony Mony. Moy Mony. Yeah, that's it. Yes, that's it. They had their hit. The song went like gangbusters up the charts and solidified Tommy James and the Shondells as one of the biggest pop groups of the day. So big and with such influence over American teenagers that the Vice President came calling upon Tommy and his group to help him boost attendance at the VP's campaign rallies that summer. It worked. Tommy and the Shondells could take a Humphrey campaign event and with their jaw balloon the size of the event from a couple thousand to more than 10,000, sometimes 20,000. Today's event was going to be different. Tommy knew it. He'd done many for Humphrey by this point and would do many more. Whatever was necessary to defeat Richard Nixon from gaining entry into the Oval Office. Tommy knew that today the VP was going to ask him for a favor. And where Tommy came from, from favors were currency. You didn't ask for them unless you were prepared to pay and you didn't grant them unless you were prepared to collect. When the limo arrived in the back seats, the party was in full effect. Comedian Alan King played it nonchalant, something cool and wet tumbling in the rocks, glass in his hand. He acknowledged Tommy with a hey kid. And went back to staring out his window. Actress Shelley Winters just stared at Tommy. She was clearly sauced, even at this early hour. She eschewed the formality of the glass and pulled Jack Daniels straight from the bottle. Whatever Alan King was annoyed with, it seemed to Tommy that the very drunk Shelley Winters was quite possibly at the top of that long list. Tommy sat back and played it cool, popped a pill, shot it back with a snort of Jack, rested his head back on the leather headrest and made like Alan King and ignored Shelley Winters. When they were on stage an hour or so later before Tommy's set, introducing the Vice President, Shelley almost fell over right there on stage in front of the audience. She was slurring her words, I'm Shelley Winters and I'm an actress and I can say any damn thing I want. And I say Hubert Humphrey is going to be the next President of the United States. Behind him on the stage, Alan King leaned over and quietly said to Tommy, at least she got his name right. Every time this fucking broad shows up, we lose 10,000 votes. The crowd roared with laughter. Alan and Tommy and everyone else in attendance all realized at that moment that the stage mics had picked up Allen's commentary and 10,000 plus people had just heard him. Shit talk Shelley Winters in real time. It didn't matter. If anything it helped. The crowd loved it and they loved Tommy and the Shondell set. And they loved Hubert Humphrey as well. The VP came on in rapped harmony, rapped power to the people, rapped non committal Vietnam strategy, rapped Tricky Dick in unemployment. Tommy James, like everyone else in attendance, lapped it up. Later that night, backstage, he sat with the Vice President and a small group of others. Humphrey asked Tommy if he would Lead the President's Council on Youth Affairs. It was a sub cabinet position, but an important one nonetheless. And here was Tommy James, singer of pop songs with nonsensical titles like Mony Mony and Hanky Panky, accepting the prestigious position. The Vice President was happy to hear Tommy's answer. He was also tired. He confided in Tommy, as he had come to do more often on their trips from campaign stop to campaign stop, that he was exhausted and had no idea how he was going to stay up all night writing this new speech. Tommy, ever the pleaser, saw an opportunity to help out and further embed himself in the VP's good graces. You know, when I have to stay up, I sometimes take these little stay awake pills. Tommy reached into his pocket, pulled out a vial of black beauties and gave one to Humphrey, who happily accepted. Needless to say, the VP's next speech killed Tommy. James was opportunistic. Life, especially in America, presented you with opportunities. It was like a game of cards. And to Tommy, it was all how you played them. He played his first break back in 1966 into a winning hand. He recorded a local single back on his home turf in Michigan, Hanky Panky. It sold okay, but failed to set the world on fire. So his band, the Shondells, split, abandoned him for the straight world, the service, marriage, etc. Tommy was adrift, alone, broke and busted. It stung. He thought he and his bandmates were boys, a gang in it to conquer hearts and the charts. But in the end, Tommy James and his Hanky Panky were nothing but a fad to the rest of his band. When he got the call from Pittsburgh's famous dj, the larger than life on air personality from wzumam, Mad Mike. Mike laid it down for him real simple. Tommy James, your song, Hanky Panky. It's a bona fide smash, man. I can't stop playing it. My listeners won't let me. Get your ass over to Pittsburgh with the rest of the Shondells and come on my show. The station will put together a concert for you to play to your fans. Fans? Tommy James had fans. He didn't even have a band anymore. That didn't matter. Instinctively, Tommy knew this was his opportunity. Sure, Mr. Mike. Me and the band will be there for sure. Right away, sir. Tommy wasn't about to tell the DJ he no longer had a band, that they'd left him in the lurch. He'd figure the band thing out. Later he'd find a band in a club 30 miles southeast of Pittsburgh. Hey, you guys want to be the Shondells? Sure. Great. And voila. Tommy James once again had a band. And when it came to Mad Mike and the radio appearance, Tommy James was all, yes, sir, sure, sir, right away, sir. You can count on me, sir. Tommy sees the opportunity just like he would later with the Vice President. And just like he would after Pittsburgh in the Big Apple, when another larger than life personality would make him an offer he couldn't refute.
- [12:11]
Ryan Reynolds
I've never felt like this before. It's like you just get me. I feel like my true self with you. Does that sound crazy? And it doesn't hurt that you're gorgeous. Okay, that's it. I'm taking you home with me. I mean, you can't find shoes this good just anywhere. Find a shoe for every you from brands you love like Birkenstock, Nike, Adidas and more at your DSW store or dsw dot com.
- [12:41]
Jake Brennan
Hey, everyone, I'm Josh Radner and I am so excited to tell you about How We Made youe Mother a Rewatch podcast. Looking back at How I Met yout Mother. And I'm here with Craig Thomas, who co created the show along with Carter Bayes. Hi, Craig. Hey, Josh. Somehow it has been 20 years since the show premiered. I'm gonna check the math on that. Ten years since it went off the air. And we thought that made this a perfect time to look back, see what the hell we did and why the show still seems to resonate with fans around the world today. Follow and listen to How We Made youe Mother wherever you get your podcasts, avoiding your unfinished home projects because you're not sure where to start. Thumbtack knows homes, so you don't have to. Don't know the difference between matte paint finish and satin or what that clunking sound from your dryer is with Thumbtack. You don't have to be a home pro. You just have to hire one. You can hire top rated pros, see price estimates and read reviews all on the app. Download. Today, the office phones wouldn't stop ringing.
- [13:40]
Ryan Reynolds
Mr. Levy can't speak at the moment. Mr. Levy can't speak AT the moment. Mr. Levy can'T speak AT the moment. Oh, sure, Mr. Gigante.
- [13:49]
Jake Brennan
One moment, please.
- [13:50]
Ryan Reynolds
Let me grab Mr. Levy.
- [13:58]
Jake Brennan
There was a constant hum of action in and around every corner of the record label's headquarters. Tommy James, Young pretty head felt like it was on a swivel. And there were songwriters, publishers, accountants and taxmen all buzzing about. And every last one of them was there for the same reason. To speak to Morris Levy, head of Roulette Records and its various sister labels, whose stable of stars included Frankie Lyman, Bill Haley and Ronnie Hawkins, amongst others, and were responsible for early rock and roll hits and dance craze songs like the Peppermint Twist, among others. But at the moment, Morris wasn't seeing anyone. Not even Tommy James and his manager, who he, Morris Levy, had requested to see. Tommy had come all the way from Niles, Michigan, to meet with him, as well as with all the other labels after it was clear that the Hanky Panky was no fluke, no fad. And now he was being made to wait. Tommy, just 19 at the time, didn't know much, but he knew this felt like disrespect. Then he heard the yelling, screaming really, from Morris's office by a very angry man who he could only assume was Mr. Morris Levy himself. Then the sounds. Rough sounds, big bangs, violent shuffles, clanging, more yelling and unbelievably, screams from someone clearly not Morris Levy. All of it was fully out of place in this business environment. But no one, not the secretaries, not the accountants, not the publishers, not any of the waiting guests acknowledged the sounds as even being there. They all just kept going about their business while Ma Bell's choir kept ringing in the background, soundtracking what was some sort of midtown madness, the likes of which Tommy James could not comprehend. He was a long way from the Midwest, he knew that much. And he also knew this was was all very exciting. He'd been in New York City for less than 24 hours. The goal was to find a record label to sign to. Getting meetings was easy. The regional success of Hanky Panky opened the right doors. Columbia Records, Kamasutra Records, Redbird Records, Atlantic Records and rca. They met with the heads at all the labels except Roulette. Morris Levy was not available. So they said, simply left a copy of Hanky Panky with his very attractive secretary. And what about the rest of their meetings? Atlantic was hot to trot. So was Columbia. Word got back. Not only did Atlantic and Columbia want to sign Tommy James, but so did every single other label they met with. It was a whirlwind. Tommy was hot on Atlantic. He would just as soon assign with them on the spot during their first meeting. But his manager knew better. Make him wait, sweat it out, get a better deal, that sort of thing. That was yesterday. The day before, this was today. And now, suddenly the labels were no longer interested. All except Roulette. It made no sense not to Tommy James and his Midwest hick manager. Anyway, in New York though, it made perfect sense. What happened in between Tommy's meetings with the heads of the music industry's biggest record labels the day before in his jet cooling stint on the sofa inside the Roulette Records waiting room was that Morris Levy had heard Hanky Panky, loved it, and decided unilaterally that Tommy James was to be a Roulette artist and called the heads of the other labels and collectively told them all to back the fuck off, mincing no words with Atlantic's Jerry Wexler, telling him, this is my fucking record, leave it alone. And now Tommy had been sent for and was was waiting patiently to learn of his fate. The fate of whoever was on the other side of Morris Levy's door, however, was seriously in question. The sounds continued. It was clear that there was some sort of violent confrontation happening. And then Morris's office door opened and the sound ceased. Out limped a haggard looking young man. He didn't look much older to Tommy than himself. Mid 20s, greaser, workman's clothes and fresh wounds on his face. Two big Italian looking men in suits followed him. Take him back to Flatbush, came the booming voice from out of Morris's office behind them. Flatbush, the Brooklyn bootlegger, was making good bread. Most kids didn't care what label covered the records of their favorite songs as long as they got to spin them on their turntables while they did the mystery dance, the Mashed Potato or the Hank. Bootlegging records was big business in the 50s and 60s. And if you were trying to make your money running a record label, a bootlegger could put you out of business by printing up and selling off brand copies of the music you financed to the unsuspecting record buying public. Morris Levy's men located the bootlegger no problem. He was right where they said he'd be in Flatbush. They stormed the makeshift pressing plant with baseball bats, grabbed the little dude at the press by the shirt collar, beat the living piss out of him, treating him like the unseen stitches on a Whitey Ford fastball. And when they got done swinging for the fences, they tied him to a chair, grabbed his illicit inventory of vinyl, spread it out all around him, doused it with gasoline and lit a match. It quickly went up in flames. They found the bootlegger's partner cowering in the corner of the office. They grabbed him as a souvenir for their boss and headed back to the roulette offices in midtown. And now that bootlegger was walk of shaming it out of Morris Levy's office and back to his torched misfortune. Having no doubt worked out some sort of devil's bargain to save his life, Morris appeared in the doorway of his office, looked out into the waiting room. And no one in particular asked this the kid? Tommy said nothing. Neither did anyone else. Neither did Morris. He just turned and went back into his office. Tommy and his manager were soon after ushered in behind him. And once inside Morris Levy's inner sanctum, they were pleasantly surprised. All of the intimidation of the experience thus far had been replaced by Morris Levy's sizable charm. Hanky Panky was a smash. Were there more where that came from? Tommy was clearly the next big thing with all that talent. And Roulette was just the record label to make it happen for all of them. Morris laid out his vision for Tommy James and the Shondells. Another pressing of Hanky Panky on Roulette. With proper promotion, nationwide radio play, a publishing deal, an advance, a tour, a certain stardom, and then more hits. Tommy was all ears. He immediately took to Morris. It was hard not to. When Morris Levy wanted you to feel the love, you felt the love. And he seemed like the only guy on the planet who could give it to you. Who could give you whatever it was you wanted. Morris Levy was boisterous, larger than life. And despite his gruff demeanor and cigar chomping voice, he had a kindness to him. With big, round, soft eyes, the kind that said, don't worry about nothing. Don't worry about the thing earlier with that guy. Just a little trouble we ought to take care of so that you can realize your dreams. Dreams that I'm gonna make come true for you, kid. Morris Levy pulled from an endless reservoir of confidence. A Jew, he came up in the Bronx working Italian mob owned nightclubs and other mafia controlled rackets. The most infamous being the Manhattan jazz club Birdland, which operated under the protection of the Genovese crime family. It was one of New York's most successful clubs at the time, but it wasn't without its problems. Morris brother was murdered there on some beef that was never entirely clear. But Morris pressed on. He commissioned a theme song for the club, the Lullaby of Birdland by George Shearing. It was a quick hit and an occasion to start a publishing company for Mars. A publishing company that Mars, levied quickly by a combination of cunning and force turned into an empire. Morris aligned himself with the most successful disc jockey in the country, Cleveland's Alan Freed. Morris brought him to New York Wind him dined and proceeded to play him. With the lavish lifestyle Freed felt he deserved. Morrison Scottsdale on the WINS radio and Alan Freed was now the most influential DJ in New York. DJs all over the country followed his lead, played what he played with Alan Freed in the fold in Morris pocket and thus in the pocket of the Genovese family. Morris was able to get Freed to play whichever of his records he wanted as frequently as he wanted, all but guaranteeing hits for the songs Morris published. So Morris then formed Roulette Records to grab a bigger piece of the royalty pie from the sale of records that featured the songs he published and that were generating performance royalties from their massive radio play. Morris was smart. He needed to make that money. He was an earner, a top earner for the Genovese family as he'd always been, going all the way back to his time as a kid in the Bronx. He knew how to make his bosses happy. First there was Salvatore Maranzano. Then Lucky Luciano put a bullet in him. Lucky went away and Vito Genovese took over. Then Vito went away and Frank Costello tried stepping into his shoes but got clipped by Cinna Gicante. Frank survived. And so to the man who arranged to whack him out, Tommy Evely, who was now sitting next to Tommy James and his manager in Morris Levy's office, seemingly out of place, a fly on the wall observing his charge. Morris Levy take charge. After teeing up the conversation, Morris came around from his desk and motioned to young Tommy James to stand up. Morris Levy hugged the 19 year old he'd just met and told him everything was going to be alright. He could go back to to his hotel and rest. Come back in the morning and they talk. Producers. For now though, Morris wanted some time alone with Tommy's manager so he and his boys could work it all out. We'll be right back after this. Word. Word.
- [23:33]
Ryan Reynolds
Word.
- [23:37]
Jake Brennan
Hello friends. Guess who? That's right, it is I, the replacer. Once again I've been called on so you can play the new Call of Duty Black Ops 7 with three expansive modes, 18 multiplayer maps and the tastiest zombie gameplay you've ever freakin seen. Call of Duty Black Ops 7 available now. Rated M for mature.
- [24:05]
Ryan Reynolds
A message from McAfee wondering why the post office is texting you or why you owe thousands of dollars in toll fees because someone's trying to scam you. The good news? McAfee can help. With McAfee's award winning scam detection, it's easy to tell what's real and what's fake over text in your inbox and online. If they're FA you wanna free gift. Seriously, if they're faking it, they're not making it past us. Get award winning scam detection today mcafee.com.
- [24:34]
Jake Brennan
Keepitreal I'm Jake Halpern, host of Deep Cover, a show about people who lead double lives. We're presenting a special series from Australia. It's all about a family who is conned by a charming American. When you marry someone, you feel like you really know them.
- [24:51]
Ryan Reynolds
I was just gobsmacked as to what's going on here.
- [24:55]
Jake Brennan
Does the name Leslie Mnookian mean anything to you? Oh, you bet. Never forget her. Listen to Deep Cover presents Snowball wherever you get your podcasts it wasn't so much that the contract his manager worked out with him was bad, it was that the guy, Morris Levy, who Tommy's manager contracted him with, was bad. Some musicians sign bad contracts and in the process sign over everything. Profits from their record sales and profits from their songwriting royalties, AKA their music publishing. That wasn't the case with Tommy. He maintained his right to make money off of his songwriting. It's just that the man who was responsible for administering the money that his songs generated, that is the man responsible for collecting and paying him, only kept up with one of his duties. Morris Levy collected. But Morris Levy didn't pay and by 1969 there was a lot of songwriting publishing money to be collected on behalf of Tommy James. Since signing with Roulette, everything Morris Levy had promised Tommy James in that first meeting he had delivered on. Hanky Panky was reissued and distributed through Roulette and it was a hit, rising to number one on the charts and selling more than a million copies. Going gold. Tommy backed up that breakout success with a string of seven hit singles including I Think We're Alone Now, Mirage and Getting Together, Climaxing with mony Moni In 1968, Mony Moni hit big on both sides of the pond. It peaked at number three in the US but went all the way to 1 in the UK and left such a cultural mark that Billy Idol's cover version would repeat the chart topping performance almost 20 years later. By the end of the 60s, as pop music transitioned from a 45 singles market to an album oriented market, Tommy adjusted with the times. His second single off the album, Crimson and Clover, Crystal Blue Persuasion climbed to number two on the charts and hitting number one was the album's title track, Crimson and Clover. On radio stations it was heard over and over, yeah, his career. Such a sweet thing. Tommy James could do everything Tommy James couldn't miss. But Tommy James couldn't get paid. At least not what he was owed. Morris Levy kept him satiated with a couple grand in cash here and a couple grand in cash there. And covered touring expenses where Tommy and his band were free to make whatever money they wanted from performance fees. And Morris paid for studio time and recording and other living and lifestyle expenses. But those out of pocket expenses were pocket change compared to the millions Tommy James was owed in back publishing models. Money millions Morris used to finance his lavish lifestyle. Expensive parties, prostitutes, a huge spread upstate. And massive legal bills to fend off a constant swarm of IRS agents prowling around trying to bust Morris for tax evasion. And of course there was the long standing protection deal he had with the Genovese family. And whatever money he needed to pay out monthly to satisfy that arrangement. Morris had a healthy overhead and a stable of songwriters he deemed expendable. Parts necessary for him to do the real work of marketing and selling music through a mix of intimidation, force, payola and other scams. And Tommy James was his favorite. Sure, like a son to Morris. But Tommy James was as expendable as the rest. Jimmie Rogers, who got too big for his songwriting britches. And that junkie who couldn't keep his dick in his pants, Frankie Lyman. Tommy would take what he was given and shut up about it. What was he going to do? Complain? To who? He wouldn't dare. Over the years, Tommy broached the subject of getting paid with Morris numerous times, but got nowhere. And he wouldn't dare bring the business outside of the walls of roulette. Tommy saw firsthand what happened to the bootleggers who crossed Morris. And he heard the rumors too. About other not so fortunate souls who dared get on the wrong side of Morris Levy. And of course, Tommy heard what Morris was capable of straight from the horse's mouth. So Tommy James took whatever money he could get his hands on and indulged one of his growing fascinations. Guns. He'd amassed a small arsenal. In his apartment he loaded his prized piece. A.32 caliber police pistol from 1902. The one with the rubber handle and the eight inch barrel. He stood on his balcony high above Manhattan, took aim and fired. Under normal circumstances, this would only be a little scary. But under the current circumstances, it was terrifying. Tommy had a head full of speed and was trying to process his overwhelming sense of anger at being screwed by Morris Levy and unable to do anything about it. The whole thing lent itself to a little cyclone of violence swirling around Tommy James in 1969. Tommy fired off another round and the shot was loud. With each pull of the trigger, Tommy imagined himself settling his beef with Morris. Imagine taking charge and taking control of the money Morris owed him, shedding himself of Morris and this impossible predicament of having his creativity preyed upon and exploited. He pulled the trigger over and over. With each shot, Tommy felt a little better, felt Morris let's. His shackles loosened. The black beauties had him amped. The weed did little to level him off. It made him paranoid, and the booze he sipped in between rounds complemented the air of invincibility that his piece in his hand inspired. Tommy's wife screamed at him to stop. He didn't listen. She screamed some more. He listened less. He kept shooting, over and over, scared to death. Tommy's wife, unable to call the cops, called the only person she knew who Tommy Tommy would listen to. She called Morris Levy. Morris made it over in no time. The last thing he needed was his star attraction getting busted with a stockpile of illegal weaponry. When he bounded through their apartment door, Tommy immediately snapped to but this was his home. So Morris, Levy, give me the guns, was all Morris said. You. Morris grabbed Tommy by the neck, lifted him off the ground with one hand and slipped, slammed him into the wall. Now you listen to me, you little sucker. You're gonna shoot these guns off into the night sky. That's one kind of stupid. You're gonna fantasize about shooting me. Well, that's another kind of stupid entirely. You insult me in a dream and you're gonna wake up and apologize. You hear me? How did he know? Tommy wondered. Morris was in his head with him on repeat. Morris tightened his grip to drive home his next point. Do you know what I did to that bomb? Who killed my brother at Birdland? Tommy couldn't say anything. He couldn't breathe. His eyes widened. Mara squeezed tighter. I took a knife and stuck it in his stomach and twisted it. Mars shaped his free hand into a fist and grounded slowly and painfully into Tommy's stomach. I stuck it in his stomach until his guts fell out. Tommy's eyes got bigger. His face was plum red. Morris leaned in closer to Tommy Tommy's ear and whispered, now you ain't gonna hurt me, are you? He didn't wait for an answer. He just loosened Tommy from his grasp, who crumbled onto the floor. Morris quickly went into savior mode and began caring for Tommy. He picked him up to his feet, dusted him off told him to leave the pills alone and that he was taking his guns. But if he ever wanted to shoot them, he could do so up at Morris's place upstate. And that if he were worried about protection in the the city for whatever reason, that Morris would assign some men to accompany him and watch his back. And just like that, Tommy James, pop star, had a full time Genovese family bodyguard accompanying him wherever he went, looking out for him, protecting him. It was a good thing because Tommy was going to need the protection. It was commonly known that in 1971 there were five families. Mafia families, I.e. gambino, Lucchese, Genovese, Bonanno and Colombo. What is uncommonly known is that Roulette Records was the unofficial sixth family headed up by Morris Levy. At least that's how he saw it. Years later, creators of the greatest television show of all time, the Sopranos, would base the character of Hesh Rabkin on Morris Levy. But back in the late 1960s, all anyone needed to know was that Morris Levy had created a mini empire in the music industry that was throwing off mountains of cash and operating under the protection of the the Genovese crime family. A family whose leadership in very existence was currently under fire. In 1969, Vito Genovese, leader of the Genovese crime family, died in prison. For the past few years, there had been a type of peace between the Genovese family and the rest of the New York families. But now it seemed that peace was unraveling. The Gambino family was on the rise, consolidating their power. And the Gambinos took over the Profaci family. And the Bonanno family was on the run. And the Gambino shot Joe Colombo, boss of the Colombo family, in the head in the middle of Columbus Circle. And as far as the Genovese family went, with their leader Vito, recently departed and with unsteady leadership, the Gambinos smelled blood and were gunning for more power. Roulette records would make for for a shiny new piece in the crown of jewels. The Gambinos were consolidating throughout New York in 1971. But first Morris Levy would have to go. And if Morris couldn't be found, then perhaps the Gambinos could snake away something he cared about to try and coax him out of hiding and leverage him into some sort of illicit swap or bargain. Perhaps that leverage could be found in capturing Tommy James. Tommy James couldn't believe what he was hearing. Sitting in his lawyer's office, the Meeting was supposed to be about developing a strategy for Tommy to extract from Morris the money he owed him via a clever audit. It was recently learned by Tommy and his lawyers that Morris likely owed Tommy a total of $40 million. But now Morris was gone in the wind. Rumored to be in South America, but. But maybe also as far away as Australia. Lamming it away from the Gambino soldiers in New York who had gone to the mattresses and likely wanted him dead or kidnapped and forced into signing away ownership of Roulette Records. Tommy's lawyers made it clear his life was in danger and he needed to get out of New York. Now the Gambinos were a real threat. Morris was gone. They could try and use Tommy to get to Morris or just plain kill to Tommy to send Morris a message. It was a threat the likes of which Tommy James had never felt. But whenever anything to that point in his career had threatened Tommy, Morris was the guy who took care of it. And now Morris was gone. And there was no one to take care of the threat or take care of him personally, never mind his career. Without Morris, the gig was over. And forget about money. Tommy would now never see what Morris owed him. He was sunk. So he headed to Nashville to drown his sorrows in speed and booze and to naturally make a country album without Morris involvement. The country album sold like ice in the middle of a blizzard. After some time, the five family's warring ways calmed down and Morris was allowed to return to New York. Tommy wasn't sure of the arrangement, but he wouldn't have been surprised if the Gambinos were now profiting off of his songs via Roulette records, just as the Genovese was. In exchange for Morris being allowed to continue operations with Roulette, Tommy couldn't truck with it anymore. He told Morris he wanted his money. And if he couldn't get it, he wanted his freedom. The confrontation was brutal. Tommy unloaded years of resentment onto Morris about being taken advantage of. Effectively stolen from Morris. Unloaded right back, reminding Tommy that had it not been for him that little Tommy James would still be hanky panky ing it and Midwest dive bars. Morris wasn't wrong. And he was unfazed by Tommy's demands. He knew he had Tommy where he wanted him, enslaved to his lifestyle. It wasn't everything he was owed, but it was worth more than his life was before he'd met Morris. So Tommy James played the only hand he had left. He retired. He refused to make any more records for Roulette, proving to Morris in the process that he was dead serious. Not making records and not getting paid was better than making records under the exploitative black hand of the mafia. And not getting paid anyway. He looked at it, he wasn't getting paid. And the rush of fame didn't matter anymore. And the live shows paid the bills. And though the hit he took in relevance due to not having any new hits to support caused his live fees to drop, it was still enough to get by. And he was still Tommy James. Morris couldn't take that away. He also couldn't take away the memories. Tommy, despite all of Morris's conniving ways, still looked back at those early days of hits with reverence and strangely, gratitude. And they were the most exciting days of his life. All the glitz, the fame and yeah, of course, even the crime. It was a thrill a minute when Tommy James was on the come up with Roulette Records. Years later, after Tommy had professionally divorced Morris Levy. And after Morris had been arrested by the FBI for an extortion scam that had him fending off a long federal prison sentence. Morris succumbed to liver cancer in 1990. Before doing so, Morris sold off Roulette Records and all of his holdings, including his publishing company that included Tommy James songs. Now in the hands of professional publishers who not only collected, but who also paid. Tommy James saw a windfall of cash. He was helped by a resurgence of popularity in his song songs in the 1980s due to the fact that two artists, Billy Idol and Tiffany, had both recorded and racked up simultaneous hits with COVID versions of Tommy James and the Shondell's songs Mony Mony and I Think We're Alone Now. Remarkably, when Billy Idol's Tommy James cover hit number one, the song it knocked off was Tiffany's Tommy James cover. Back in 68, Morris had summoned Tommy James to his office. It was a thing that happened regularly. But this time, as Tommy was approaching, something felt different. The surrounding office lacked its usual buzz. As Tommy made his way in to see the boss. He was young and naive, but not without instincts. When he opened Morris's door and entered, he immediately realized the reason it all fell felt different. Inside Morris's office there were five serious looking Italian men sitting on Morris's L shaped sofa. Morris looked more serious than usual. Hey kid, come on in. Tommy did as he was told. Tommy Morris said these men would like to meet you. This is Mr. Gigante. Tommy knew who he was meeting. It was the fearsome dark Genovese Capo. One of the boss's most loyal Soldiers, Vincent the Chin Gigante, and this is Mr. Cirillo. Tommy then shook hands with Quiet dom Cirillo and Mr. Salermo wanted to meet you as well. Tommy's hand was then gripped by the massive mitt of Fat Tony Salmo, who would go on to eventually become the inspiration for the Sopranos. Tony Soprano and Mr. Vistola wanted to say hello. Then of course you know Mr. Eboly already. MORRIS addressed them all. He's a good kid. He's got the number one record this week. Tommy Eboly spoke for the group. We're all proud of you, Tommy. That thing you're doing for Vice President Humphrey, it's a good thing and we're all very proud of you. Morris then gave Tommy a nod as if to say, you're free to leave now with your life because me and these men in this room say so. Tommy then told them it was nice to meet you all and quickly made his way out of the office. Sitting back now, years later, enjoying his newfound success. Tommy James remembered that day. He remembered that while walking away from those very scary men, the upper echelon of the Genovese crime family, that he didn't feel frightened at all. He felt accepted. And that was all he really wanted in life and his career was to feel, feel accepted, to feel like he was part of something. The original Shondells betrayed that feeling when they abandoned Tommy James back in his teens and later as an adult. Morris Levy and the six Family Roulette records fulfilled that feeling, for they accepted him, but not out of love or friendship or some sense of honor or family, but for a price. And that was a disgrace. I Jake I'm Jake Brennan and this is Disgrace. Disgraceland was created by yours truly and is produced in partnership with Double Elvis. Credits for this episode can be found on the the show notes page@gracelandpod.com if you're listening as a Disgraceland All Access member, thank you for supporting the show. We really appreciate it. And if not, you can become a member right now by going to Disgracelandpod.com membership members can listen to every episode of Disgraceland Ad Free. Plus you'll get one brand new exclusive episode every month. Weekly unscripted bonus episodes special offer collections and early access to merchandise and events. Visit disgracelandpod.com membership for details, rate and review the show and follow us on Instagram, TikTok, Twitter and Facebook Disgracelandpod and on YouTube@YouTube.com Disgracelandpod Rocka Rolla He's a bad, bad man.