Our discussion centered on the federal government and how it hassled the hell out of the casinos, and we talked of some myths surrounding the late Howard Hughes. You might enjoy this walk down memory lane.

Let's talk about the feds first. They really didn't bother much about our town until Mafia don Frank Costello got shot in 1957 in a New York hotel lobby. He was only wounded, but when the cops emptied his pockets, lo and behold, they found a slip of paper with some interesting information. It showed that the Tropicana Hotel & Casino winnings for 24 days topped $650,000.

Now how, and why, would Costello have that information? Do you know what the word "skimming" means, children? The feds launched into action, doing what they do best --planting wiretaps. How do we know that? An electrician in the Fremont Hotel literally tripped over a wire in the executive offices and asked what I consider a good electrician question: "Where the hell does this go?"

He soon found out. It led to a phony novelty company behind the Fremont. The operation was set up by the feds and led to wiretaps all over town. At the time it was said the feds had more wire around town than the phone company. The Fremont and Sands hotels sued the FBI and Central Telephone Company for invasion of privacy and conspiracy. This was in 1963.

It got so bad that President Lyndon Johnson issued an executive order prohibiting the use of electronic equipment for eavesdropping. The peeved feds then leaked stories about Nevada casino skimming to major papers around the country, which in turn reported that $1 million a year was being siphoned off to the underworld owners of six casinos. An NBC "white paper" upped that figure to $2.5 million a month. Aahh, the accuracy of the press.

This, however, was not good publicity. The heat was on. In the period from 1961 to 1966, Nevada state agents logged 206,844 undercover "observations" of gaming establishment activities, partly to appease the feds. Let's not misunderstand, however. Nevada, like the feds, wanted the bad guys out of the casinos and kept a close eye out for any improprieties.

Their savior, to some extent, came in the guise of a reclusive billionaire, but not because he wanted to rid Las Vegas of the Mob, nor over some petty rift with the Desert Inn. Here's what happened.

Howard Hughes was forced to sell his stock in Trans World Airlines because of a fight he was having with shareholders on how he was running the company. The sale of the stock gave Hughes a tidy $546.5 million. This translated into many thousands of dollars of interest per day, which in turn meant tax on that money. What's a guy to do?

"Hey, Howie," someone whispered in his ear, "gross casino revenue can offset that tax." Hughes might have been a bit strange, but he wasn't stupid. Here was the answer to solve any tax problems. Before the ink was dry on his 1966 purchase of the Desert Inn, he was asking: "How many more of these places are available? Let's buy them all."

Great idea, with only one problem. He'd need a gaming license, and one of the requisites to obtaining a license was to appear before the state gaming board, something that was not going to happen.

Paul Laxalt, who had been elected governor just two weeks before Hughes arrived in Las Vegas, was tired of the feds poking their noses into casino affairs and also saw a way to get rid of the Mob. He suggested revisions to the gaming laws. New laws were implemented, the most important one allowing corporations to own casinos and to issue stock in them.

Under this new law, Hughes didn't have to appear before the board. Instead, his Hughes Tool Company was licensed to operate the Desert Inn. Hughes reciprocated this gesture by Laxalt et al by offering a big chunk of cash, every year for 20 years, to finance a university medical school.

He then bought the Castaways, Frontier, Landmark and Silver Slipper, as well as property up and down the Strip and various parts of the Valley including the North Las Vegas Airport. Sure, the Mob was still in town, but its stranglehold on the Strip had been broken, and it would only be a matter of time before they would disappear from the Las Vegas casino scene.

So you see, Hughes had an agenda when he got into the hotel/casino business, but it wasn't based on any high moral ground like wanting to create a place for families, as you might have heard. Or ridding Las Vegas of the Mob. He simply wanted to beat the tax man. And that, my friends, as radio commentator Paul Harvey might say, "is the other side of the story."

Before I leave Howard Hughes (and I hope you found this look backward somewhat interesting), I must tell you another myth about Hughes. When he died in 1976 on a flight from Acapulco to a Texas hospital, I was sent to Acapulco to investigate his last days there.

I spoke to the doctor who was the last person in Acapulco to see Hughes and who oversaw the transfer of him from the Princess Hotel to his private plane for that fatal trip.