updated on May 30, 2023
According to old-timers of our acquaintance, La Cosa Nostra built this little paradise in the desert and they weren't about to sit back and watch some thugs screw it up -- though plenty tried.
The mob bosses had rules. Lots and lots of rules. Some pertained to their wives, girlfriends, and mistresses, who were off limits to everyone else. To break this rule could get you a broken arm, a crushed kneecap, or a 38-caliber hole in your private parts.
Another rule was that any and all troublemakers -- from cheats and thieves to hit men, from screw-ups and loudmouths to crooks of all stripes -- would get "the 86," which was believed to mean "a free ride eight miles out of town and a nice grave six feet deep," though as we discuss in our FAQ, "Are Bodies Really Buried in the Desert?" this was probably more of a rumor, used as an effective deterrent, than reality.
The third rule, "We only kill our own" and "No one dies in Vegas," has been well-publicized. To this day, no one dies in a casino. To this day, the local media rarely report anything about anyone who actually does die in a casino from whatever cause and paramedics likewise don't declare someone dead until he or she is out of the casino.
The Mob declared war on drugs in Las Vegas, so it was completely one-sided. Anyone who disobeyed the non-narcotics rule was taught a severely painful lesson, then left alive as an example.
The mob rules were clear about keeping the streets clean of bums, beggars, drunks, pimps, hookers, trick rollers, and dope peddlers, whom they believed were bad for business, taking money that rightfully belonged to them and chasing off their players. It was common sense: You didn't want to get between the mob and their money.
We've heard from Las Vegas veteran after veteran that you could walk around day and night without the fear of being beaten up, robbed, or mobbed by streetwalkers. If something did happen to you, you didn't go to the cops; you went to the bosses. Everyone knew who was connected and in most cases, there was a mutual respect: The civilians steered clear of the mobsters unless they had a problem, while the wiseguys knew who was buttering their bread.
"A few of the bosses were pure evil," one of our informants told us, "and we avoided them; there weren't many like that, but when you saw one coming in or walking through the joint, it was break time, or you needed to tie your shoelaces behind a filing cabinet, or you simply looked away and prayed."
He added, "Since those days, I often wonder who the bad guys are. I’ve seen the so-called good-guy bosses and owners and regulators and bureaucrats and politicians and police do some horrible things to innocent people, while the smut peddlers, purse thieves, muggers, and rapists, especially the celebrity movie stars and athletes, take a free ride, getting away with anything. But back in the day, even Frank Sinatra had to play by the rules -- and he got taken to task when he didn't.
"Yes," our guy concluded, "it was much different, and better, and safer when the 'boys' were in charge of the playground."