From Publishers Weekly
Van Meter delivers a wonderful narrative-a biography, really-of one of the most controversial cities in the U.S., the nightclub and gambling mecca of Atlantic City. Beginning with the city's founding in the 1850s as a resort for Philadelphians, Van Meter reconstructs the foundation of greed, corruption, crime and, most important, entertainment on which Atlantic City was built. All the characters are there, including Atlantic City's first openly corrupt politician, Nucky Johnson. But entrepreneur Paul "Skinny" D'Amato gets most of Van Meter's attention. A grade-school dropout, D'Amato worked his way up from operator of a smalltime, illegal gambling den (the first legal casino opened in 1978) to owner and operator of the 500 Club, the soon-to-be world-famous nightclub and haven for mobsters. Van Meter carefully details how the charming and clever D'Amato and his 500 Club were the reason for the success of Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis, as well how they assisted Frank Sinatra to bounce back into the public eye. Van Meter expands the narrative to cover D'Amato's friendship with Sinatra and mob boss Sam Giancana and their involvement with the Cal-Neva Resort, as well as their collusion in helping get John F. Kennedy into office. Van Meter also convincingly argues that despite D'Amato's acquaintance with the likes of Giancana and Lucky Luciano, D'Amato himself was neither a member of nor beholden to the mob. If there is one fault with the book, it is that Van Meter, who writes for Vanity Fair, Vogue and Esquire, often relies on punchy, detail-laden magazine style. But this is a minor quibble in an otherwise riveting glimpse into the throbbing heart of Atlantic City.
Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information, Inc.
--This text refers to an alternate
Hardcover
edition.
The genial Atlantic City impresario Paul (Skinny) D'Amato makes frequent appearances in accounts of Frank Sinatra's Rat Pack and of the postwar heyday of the Cosa Nostra. His famous 500 Club, a night club and illegal gambling den, was a favorite Sinatra hangout from the nineteen-forties onward, and his friendships with gangsters such as Sam Giancana and Angelo Bruno were a source of perennial fascination to the F.B.I. But, placed front and center, as he is in this book, D'Amato himself proves disappointing. He clearly had moxie, charm, and diplomacy, and yet, perhaps because of these very qualities, his character remains elusive. Van Meter is enthralled by Atlantic City lore, and is at his best when he uses Skinny as an excuse to explore Prohibition-era corruption under the flamboyant South Jersey fixer Nucky Johnson, or the maneuverings of casino entrepreneurs in the nineteen-seventies to legalize gambling. One wishes he had written a more general history, giving more time to D'Amato's equally colorful confederates.
Copyright © 2005
The New Yorker
--This text refers to an alternate
Hardcover
edition.