very meticulously combed and with stubby fingers ringed by circles of silver that were studded with gaudy stones. He wore baggy trousers, always wrinkled, and Ban-Ion shirts. Paternalism and conviviality emanated from Cerros soul. In a typical gesture he would thrust an arm around a friends shoulder and whisper a salacious joke or dispense an old Italian adage as if he were sharing a great secret.
Cerro operated a private poker game and a floating craps table. Drugs and stolen merchandise were fields of endeavor. He loaned cash to those people who wished to avoid the traditional banking channels. When sports betting became popular, he ran the local action. Sports gambling developed into Cerros most lucrative trade.
His livelihood associated the bookmaker with every stratum of Madison society and garnered him a modicum of notoriety. He played poker with judges, took lawyers 7 bets on college football, drank his beers at the Italian Workmen's Club. Sam Cerro was friendly like a favorite uncle, but he was not consistently smart. Collisions with law enforcement people were troublesome, and his career had been interrupted with arrests for bookmaking, possession of gambling materials, possession of stolen goods, property, and drugs.
When the first massage parlor opened in Madison, it drew Cerros attention. Though the place eventually folded, he decided the concept was solid if police harassment could be kept at a minimum. What he needed was a competent person to hire the women and kick ass when things got sloppy. He sought someone tough and audacious. Ken Curtis fit the qualifications. Cerro offered the weightlifter a partnership, and Curtis showed no more hesitation than when bench pressing 400 pounds. He gritted his teeth and pushed straight ahead.
Two months later Jans Health Spa premiered in the
basement of a small shopping center on Madison's west side. A few naive citizens dropped in expecting a gym and exited quickly when greeted by a woman in high heels and lace negligee and a promise of pleasure.
Things went better and worse than each partner anticipated. On about the eighth night of business Curtis pummeled a customer who got obstreperous when he wasn't permitted to sodomize the girl of his choice. It took an emergency room intern an hour and a spool of thread to stitch the horny gents face back together. Curtis was detained by police but released when the man refused to press charges. A couple nights later one of the masseuses was arrested by an undercover cop for soliciting prostitution, and the massage parlor was closed by official order. A court restraining order had it opened within a week, minus the naughty vixen. The publicity over the arrest provided front-page advertising. Trade was brisk.
The partnership immediately expanded its enterprise. The Rising Sun massage parlor debuted in the shadow of the state capitol to service the uptown activity. The Geisha House opened for the convenience of the east-side clientele. Business in the downtown area was so good that another parlor, on the opposite side of the capitol from the Rising Sun, was opened.
Curtis stocked the parlors with a variety of women— sultry, sweet, sensual, sassy—and procured them drugs to encourage their enthusiasm. Many of the women were recruited from the university campus, answering ads in the student newspaper. On a Friday night giving hand jobs could bring a coed $100 to $150, and if the woman was apt to give other amenities—such as sucking or fucking— she could double or triple that amount.
Curtis augmented his own income with the dissemination of illegal substances. With cash and the proper recommendation a pharmacy of narcotics was available— speed, grass, Quaaludes, angel dust, hashish, cocaine.
The cocaine commerce flourished in particular. Jan's became a hub of local trade, a swirl of back-room barters, where shipments arrived in the middle of the night from
Louisiana, or were driven into town after being flown into a
Cerro operated a private poker game and a floating craps table. Drugs and stolen merchandise were fields of endeavor. He loaned cash to those people who wished to avoid the traditional banking channels. When sports betting became popular, he ran the local action. Sports gambling developed into Cerros most lucrative trade.
His livelihood associated the bookmaker with every stratum of Madison society and garnered him a modicum of notoriety. He played poker with judges, took lawyers 7 bets on college football, drank his beers at the Italian Workmen's Club. Sam Cerro was friendly like a favorite uncle, but he was not consistently smart. Collisions with law enforcement people were troublesome, and his career had been interrupted with arrests for bookmaking, possession of gambling materials, possession of stolen goods, property, and drugs.
When the first massage parlor opened in Madison, it drew Cerros attention. Though the place eventually folded, he decided the concept was solid if police harassment could be kept at a minimum. What he needed was a competent person to hire the women and kick ass when things got sloppy. He sought someone tough and audacious. Ken Curtis fit the qualifications. Cerro offered the weightlifter a partnership, and Curtis showed no more hesitation than when bench pressing 400 pounds. He gritted his teeth and pushed straight ahead.
Two months later Jans Health Spa premiered in the
basement of a small shopping center on Madison's west side. A few naive citizens dropped in expecting a gym and exited quickly when greeted by a woman in high heels and lace negligee and a promise of pleasure.
Things went better and worse than each partner anticipated. On about the eighth night of business Curtis pummeled a customer who got obstreperous when he wasn't permitted to sodomize the girl of his choice. It took an emergency room intern an hour and a spool of thread to stitch the horny gents face back together. Curtis was detained by police but released when the man refused to press charges. A couple nights later one of the masseuses was arrested by an undercover cop for soliciting prostitution, and the massage parlor was closed by official order. A court restraining order had it opened within a week, minus the naughty vixen. The publicity over the arrest provided front-page advertising. Trade was brisk.
The partnership immediately expanded its enterprise. The Rising Sun massage parlor debuted in the shadow of the state capitol to service the uptown activity. The Geisha House opened for the convenience of the east-side clientele. Business in the downtown area was so good that another parlor, on the opposite side of the capitol from the Rising Sun, was opened.
Curtis stocked the parlors with a variety of women— sultry, sweet, sensual, sassy—and procured them drugs to encourage their enthusiasm. Many of the women were recruited from the university campus, answering ads in the student newspaper. On a Friday night giving hand jobs could bring a coed $100 to $150, and if the woman was apt to give other amenities—such as sucking or fucking— she could double or triple that amount.
Curtis augmented his own income with the dissemination of illegal substances. With cash and the proper recommendation a pharmacy of narcotics was available— speed, grass, Quaaludes, angel dust, hashish, cocaine.
The cocaine commerce flourished in particular. Jan's became a hub of local trade, a swirl of back-room barters, where shipments arrived in the middle of the night from
Louisiana, or were driven into town after being flown into a
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