The same kind that has "the Clown" as their nickname.
'The Clown' sounds funny, but the joke's on us
Joey "The Clown" Lombardo is quite a cutup as mobsters go. Whenever he had to make his way through the lobby of a state or federal courthouse, he got a big kick out of making it difficult for those of us in the news trying to take his picture. Over the years we've seen him peering through a cut-out hole of a newspaper or walking by with a handkerchief draped over his face or other times wearing a goofy looking hat pulled way down.
When he wasn't pulling sight gags, The Clown tried his hand at other types of humor. Take for instance the ads he bought in three newspapers back 1992 just after he was released from federal prison.
It was to declare he was not a "made" member of the mob.
"I never took a secret oath with guns and daggers, pricked my finger, drew blood or burned paper (in my hand) to join a criminal organization," he wrote "...so if anyone hears my name in connection with any criminal activity please notify the FBI..."
What a card.
When FBI and IRS agents arrived at his door Monday morning to arrest him on racketeering and murder conspiracy charges, he must have gotten quite a giggle out of giving them the slip. As I write this, he and mob enforcer Frank "The German" Schweihs are still on the lam.
The fact is nothing about Joey Lombardo is funny or entertaining, and you and I pay the cost of him and the mob doing business.
Monday's indictment by federal prosecutors is hailed as a landmark organized crime case because never before have so many old, cold mob murders been bundled together for prosecution. Lombardo is one of a number of mobsters or mob associates tagged with those brutal crimes in which victims were buried or blow-torched or blown up or gunned down.
But though the unsolved mob murders are the red meat of this sweeping indictment, they do not occupy the main space.
What does?
Video poker.
For those of you who haven't hung out much at the corner tavern or neighborhood restaurant, picture this.
In many of these establishments, in the backroom, there are anywhere from two to 10 of these "recreational" machines. You put money in (some take $100 bills) and start playing poker. If you win, you pick up points, not money. These machines technically don't pay out. That would be illegal.
But if you are a regular customer and not suspected of being an undercover cop, at some point you go over to the owner or manager of the bar who does, in fact, "pay out." Your "points" are converted to cash.
Harmless fun, right?
A lot of people feel that it is. They can have a few drinks, stay in their own neighborhood and gamble.
But the poker machines in question are almost always operated by the mob, people like Jimmy Marcello and his brother Mickey, who were also indicted on Monday.
According to Cook County Sheriff Michael Sheahan, "A good machine pays out up to $2,000 a week."
There are, it's estimated, anywhere from 47,000 to 100,000 such machines in the state. Do the math. It's a staggering amount of cash, and the Outfit takes half off the top. The owner gets the other half. The state doesn't get a dime.