WHERE'S MIKE MAMOUKIAN?

Thou shalt not steal.  We all know the Ten Commandments but what Mike Mamoukian took, made him hero to those who knew the truth...and a target to his victim(s). 

In a knee-jerk reaction, cloaked in darkness, Mike together with his ill-gotten gains, drove aimlessly through the wee hours of the morning. Until he decided to head west.  To his favorite vacation destination...Las Vegas.  Mike pictured himself as a craps dealer.  There, he expected to bleed in with the locals and live a normal life.

Unfortunately, even years before the Internet or the GPS, Mike wasn't smart enough to know that vengeful criminals where willing to pay any price to their people, even private detectives,  to recover their property and make an example of the perpetrator.



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In May 1979, my friend Ciro the Hero, (thirty years before he became Ciro the Zero), got hired at the "Holiday," (Holiday International Casino).  To celebrate his emancipation from Slots-A-Fun and stepping over the poverty line, he suggested the bowling alley bar, at the Showboat Casino.

The hotbed of horny redneck chicks Ciro expected, didn't materialize.  On our way out, we bumped into two craps dealers from his new job.

Bobby and Mike were on a double-date so I didn't want to intrude but they were so welcoming that we hung out as they bowled. I gravitated to Bobby and his fiance.  They were both my age (23) and earthy.

Mike was friendly too but dull.  He was eight years older than me and seemed fifty.  Plus, he wasn't too bright and his wife Maria was weird.  She didn't bowl and remained disinterested while staring off into space.

Bobby was saying he was from the tiny town of Brocton New York when Mike proved his dopiness by interrupting, "I was a bouncer at a topless joint in Niagara."

Ciro said, "Looking after strung-out whores.  That's gotta be a great job!"

Mike's face went limp, "I don't want to talk about it."

When Mike turned away, I saw a big Buffalo Bills tattoo through the dense black hair of his forearm. He went to comfort Maria when I noticed a thick five o'clock shadow couldn't camouflage his heavily scarred face.

Mike was also clumsy with the bowling ball because he didn't put his fingers in the ball.  That's when I noticed his mangled hands and was reminded of NFL Hall-of-Famer Chuck Bednarik...whose fingers had been twisted and broken as a result of dirty tactics during his career, (1949-1962).

HARD-HITTING CHUCK "CEMENT CHARLIE" BEDNARIK, (1925-2015) WAS THE LAST NFLer TO PLAY FULL-TIME  DEFENSE (LINEBACKER) AND OFFENSE (CENTER).  A MEMBER OF THE PHILADELPHIA EAGLES WORLD CHAMPION TEAM IN 1960, HE IS BEST REMEMBERED FOR HIS CLEAN HIT THAT KNOCKED FRANK GIFFORD OUT OF FOOTBALL FOR A YEAR AND A HALF AND SHORTENED HIS CAREER.

Ciro privately found out from Bobby that Mike's fractured, fingers, knuckles and hands were grim reminders of how mobsters use hammers to rectify transgressions.

Bobby then mentioned to Ciro, "Mike got so deep in gambling debts that he didn't owe those bloodsuckers...they owned him!"

He also told us that Mike's gorgeous but silent wife Maria was an illegal refugee from Estonia.  This blond bombshell (19) spoke little English , (I never heard her voice).  Maria didn't bowl or socialize.  Instead she clung to Mike every chance she got. When left alone, she balled-up into a fetal position.  It was obvious that something wasn't right.  Even on our way out, she didn't acknowledge us.  When I got a better look at her, I saw her deadened eyes and figured she was sick.

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Two weeks later, Ciro called to tell me how his new job was going.  I asked about Bobby and Mike.

Ciro said, "Bobby is cool but get this, they made Mooks a pit boss and sent him to grave."

"I said, "Mooks?"

He said, "Oh yeah Mike's last name is Mamoukian, he's Armenian."

I said, "That explains the uni-brow...hey, wait a second, did you say pit boss?"



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The next day, I went to the Holiday, scheduled a craps audition and was hired on swing shift.

After getting processed, Bobby spent his break with me. I asked about Mooks.

He shook his head and said, "Mooks couldn't add two and two.  And his hands are so screwed up, he can barely hold the chips.  Even if he knows a payoff, he makes a messy adventure out of the simplest shit.  Now we know he's not a heavy thinker...but I guess the big shots see he's such a great guy with a warm heart.  So they told him that his future was in management.  To start, pit bosses get eighty a day."

I mused, "That's like a million a year."

"On Mike's third shift, some filthy, shivering, pregnant girl came in out of the rain wearing dealer black and whites.  She wanted a craps audition but they were only giving on day shift. Mike couldn't help her but she looked so hard-up in her dirty, wrinkled and torn clothes that he offered her coffee and a sandwich.  She wanted scotch.  He was called away.  A minute later, Mike looked up and she was gone.  Mike's a good guy.  I think if he had a chance, he would have tried to arrange something for her."

We were walking back to the craps pit when I asked, "What's the story with his wife?"

"You know the're not really married," Bobby said. 

I said, "No?"

He continued, "Mooks made it sound like he rescued Maria from the mob.  The wiseguys took money from her family in the old country, smuggled her into the states and got her hooked on heroine.  They made her into like a slave or something? And to survive, she danced nude, turned tricks and...whatever."

MIKE AND MARIA WEREN'T MARRIED.  HE THOUGHT THEY WOULD BE HARDER TO TRACK-DOWN THAT WAY...ESPECIALLY BECAUSE MARIA HAD NO IDENTIFICATION.  MORE IMPORTANTLY, MIKE WANTED A SYMBOL OF HIS DEDICATION TO HER, SO HE BOUGHT MATCHING WEDDING BANDS.  SHE WORE HERS BUT BECAUSE OF MIKE'S GNARLED FINGERS, HE KEPT HIS RING IN THE TOP DRAWER OF HIS NIGHTSTAND.

I said, "Geez."

"So Mooks, who's already their slave...he made it sound like they made him do nasty shit for them...has a soft spot for Maria.  One night he gets so fed up, it's like he kidnapped her.  So to free her and himself, they split in the middle of the night. He's convinced they want her back and him dead."  I couldn't believe my ears as Bobby continued, "Sometimes I think I'm a moron to be seen around him, in case whoever is after him has bad aim."

I murmured, "Wow."

"If that's all true, it won't be too hard to hunt him down...he tempts fate all the time...remember in the bowling alley how yelled out his was a bouncer from Niagara.  And that stupid Buffalo Bills tattoo on his forearm, is one hell of a distinguishing mark."

THE TATTOO WAS THE ORIGINAL BUFFALO BILLS "STANDING STILL" OR IN MIKE'S CASE, SITTING DUCK LOGO.  HE WAS ASKING FOR TROUBLE BECAUSE, HE MAY HAVE RIPPED OFF HIS BUFFALO BILLS BUMPER STICKER, IT WAS STILL HIS SAME CAR WITH NEW YORK LICENSE PLATES.

Bobby continued, "And I don't care how hot Las Vegas gets, to hide it, you'd think that idiot would at least wear long sleeve shirts."

I said, "Yeah."

"Give Mike a little credit, his phone number is unlisted.  Of course the dummy didn't change his name...or nickname...and we all know there aren't many Mamoukian's running around."

Bobby's craps game was standing dead so while he was on duty, he was able to whisper more info, "Maria never leaves the apartment without him.  She can't read English or understand the shit on TV.  Luckily Mooks found Jude."

"Jude?"

"Oh.  Jude, like St Jude, the Patron Saint of Hopeless Causes, is the disheveled, starving kitten he found at his apartment complex.  It was drinking Jacuzzi water so he brought it home for Maria to care for.  Together with the hairball, a radio and Mooks , she copes with pain and loneliness of going cold turkey.

"And Mike?"

"It gets worse.  A lot worse."

I said, "Heh?"

"This morning," Bobby whispered so low, I strained to hear, "the shit hit the fan."

"The mob caught up with him?"

"No.  But almost as bad.  Let me tell you what he just told me.  I'll start in the beginning.  Mooks took to being a big boss well.  He ate like a king, loved the respect and rock star status.  On graveyard, there's little activity except when his under bosses handed him papers to sign.  It seemed natural that during the wee hours that cleaning and maintenance was done.  He felt important authorizing the floor waxing unit to be on the casino floor, signing the exterminator invoice or a initialing a memo about new dealer aprons."

"By the third day, he was scribbling his name because he was bombarded with similar trivialities.  But Mooks wasn't sharp enough to realize that a fill of casino chips, to replenish a craps table's bank would arrive when he was doing other things.  On one occasion, Gary the floor supervisor (an under boss) said, 'I see you're busy,' as Mooks tried to decipher an intentionally obtuse memo about the overhead light bulbs.  Then Gary generously said, 'Just sign here and I'll put the money on the table for you.'"

Bobby continued, "Fills came each shift. This morning's came as he was signing his meal ticket, struggling to fill out the master attendance sheets and completing a D. A. N. (Disciplinary Action Form) for a boxman who fell asleep on his break.  Gary as usual extended the clip board with the fill slip on it and said, 'Take care of your important business.  Just put your John Hancock here and I'll take care of this nonsense.'"

"Later, at 6:00AM, Mooks was in the coffee shop basking in the sweet life.  While inhaling a broiled veal chop, a double order of cottage fires and a squash medley, he decided to create his own memo to allow dealers to sit during lulls in the action.

"Suddenly a young craps dealer approached and said, 'Gotta minute?'  Mooks didn't want his dinner disrupted and tried to give him the bum's rush.  Instead, the dealer plopped into the booth next to him and whispered, 'I might be wrong because I'm reading everything upside down...'  Mooks looked away and asked the waitress for more onion rolls."

"Mooks acted surprised that the dealer was still there and said, 'So?'  In a lower tone the dealer said, 'Today was the third time...'  He hesitated, looked around and added, 'Today was the third time that a fill came for the wrong amount...a lesser amount.'  Something clicked in Mooks' mind and he said, 'So, in other words...'  The kid's voice was barely audible, 'Each of the last three days, a fill was short five hundred dollars...in nickels.'"

Mooks ripped off the napkin that was childishly stuffed into his shirt and over his tie.  He marched into the shift boss' office and without comprehending the implication or scope of his accusation, explained his discovery of the daily chip theft ring.

The shift boss arched his right eye brow as he thought; this imbecile is smarter than he looks. After Mooks disclosed his source, he was fired when the boss accused him of being a co-conspirator.  Mooks was shocked.  He tried to defend himself but was repeatedly cut-off.  While the shift boss was mulling how he and his band of sharpies, (Gary the floor person, the boxman and cage manager). were going to recruit another stooge for their money siphoning operation, (projected to $32,000+ cash, each, per year),  he said, "I am sincerely disappointed.  Such a fine young man on the outside...if I didn't like you so well, I'd call the police and you'd serve time.  And when you got out, you'd be black balled in every casino in the goddamned state.  Now get the hell out of my sight.  Or I'll have your pathetic ass thrown out into the gutter!"



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Mooks was out of work for months. He was such an awful craps dealer that he couldn't pass an audition.  He also made the mistake of including his nine-shift stint as a pit boss on applications.  That strategy backfired because potential employers don't want to hire a jaded retread (sharpie) who might covet their job.  At other casinos, his management experience resulted in a barrage of administrative questions that Mooks wasn't qualified to handle.

The Mamoukian's had their backs to the wall.  While Maria slowly kicked her addiction, she remained physically, intellectually and emotionally unemployable.  Mooks' meager life savings were evaporating.  He feared betrayal from family and friends back home so he stubbornly sought to redeem himself.

A few days before Bobby's wedding, Bobby reluctantly offered to take the Mamoukian's in.  But Mooks got hired at the Lady Luck Casino as a less challenged blackjack dealer.

BACK IN THE DAY, THE LADY LUCK WAS ON PAR WITH SLOTS-A-FUN AS THE WORST TOILET TO WORK IN.  THE DIFFERENCE WAS, WHEN I WAS GROSSING $170.00/WEEK IN MY SLICE OF HELL, I WASN'T WEIGHED DOWN BY THE ADDED EXPENSE OF A DETOXING ADDICT...AND A CAT.

Bobby was kind enough to invite Ciro and me to his wedding. On our way to the church, Ciro got a flat tire.  We missed the whole ceremony but made it to Bobby's apartment, in time for the eats.  The party was small with family members from both sides, coming great distances.

Ciro and I were forced to talk to each other, stuff our faces and drink alone because Bobby and his wife were the only people we knew...and they were busy.

Bobby breezed by and we apologized about being late.

He said, "Where's Mike and Maria? I called their apartment but no answer.  So I sent my brother over there..."

At the same time, his brother burst in and said, "There was no answer, so I used the key you gave me.  The sick girl inside was scared shitless and wouldn't come with me..."

Mike Mamoukian was never seen again!

Bobby returned from his two-week honeymoon and went directly to the Mamoukian's apartment. He expected to see Mike.  Instead, he saw a ghost-like Maria.  He moved her and Jude into their place.

Bobby went to the Lady Luck and asked the blackjack pit boss about Mooks.

The pit boss said, "That Saturday, (the day of the wedding), Mike was a 'no call, no show' and every day afterwards.  A week later, he was terminated, for job abandonment.

Bobby went to LVPD and filed a missing person report. He thought it wise to avoid mentioning Maria.



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A year later, Bobby told Ciro, "After a couple of weeks, I brought Maria to a Russian Orthodox Church.  I told them the full story and added that I thought Mike was murdered. They took her and Jude in, taught Maria English and enough basic skills to make her employable."

Ciro shared this information with me and said, "If the wiseguys caught up with Mooks, they probably tortured the shit out of him...and being such a stand-up guy, he never gave-up where Maria was.  I bet not wearing that wedding ring also helped shield her.  Plus, he was smart enough to give the Lady Luck a fake address.  So it's a safe guess he got whacked. Unfortunately, there's a big desert out there and it's impossible to find the hole they dug for him."



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Perhaps the most obvious commandment, "Love thy neighbor," isn't so apparent in Las Vegas.  Mike Mamoukian was a sensitive, gentle man.  He was a better person than most transients but in retrospect, it would have been a bad idea to (metaphorically) turn your back on your wallet with him around.   

The town was full of people like him and a major reason why I didn't want to raise my family in such an environment.

On my last Vegas visit, (2009), Ciro the Hero cemented his metamorphosis into Ciro the Zero when I recognized that despite living there thirty years, he had become one of them.  

Before going our separate ways, I asked if Mike ever resurfaced. The question must have been absurd, he looked at me like I had two heads.  But he did say that Maria was a pit boss in some tiny, dive casino on Boulder Highway.