In the U.S. last week, Terrance Watanabe, an Omaha, Nebraska retail king who made millions of dollars selling party favors, filed a lawsuit claiming that two Las Vegas casinos allowed him to gamble away most of his fortune while too drunk to make rational decisions. The arithmetic is astoun-ding. He lost in excess of $125 million, including $5 million during one twenty-four hour stretch in 2007, and his losses represented about five percent of the 2007 profits of Caesar's Palace and The Rio. Watanabe made good on over $100 million in debts, but has balked at paying the rest. In the past he would have ended up in a desert grave with Joe Pesci shoveling sand in his face, but the post-millennial Vegas is a kinder gentler place, and the two casinos instead sicced their legal pitbulls on him, which resulted in his arrest.

If you spend time seeking out real world pulp, as we do, you start to develop the crazy idea that money is an almighty corruptor that mutates people into heartless monsters (assuming they weren’t already that way). In the U.S. yesterday, a court case supporting that thesis came to a close when a jury convicted Anthony Marshall, son of the millionaire socialite Brooke Astor, of defrauding his late mother out of her $185 million fortune. Astor had acquired her wealth by wedding John Astor IV, whose family had originally accumulated the riches dealing in furs and opium. She became a leading light in New York City society, writing novels and hosting charitable events. She once said famously, “Money is like manure—it’s not worth a thing unless it’s spread around.” She died in 2007 at age 105, and in her last years developed Alzheimer’s disease.

During that period, her son, with the help of his lawyer, tricked her into altering her will so that he was the sole executor. Anthony Marshall’s trial involved a who’s-who of upper crust NYC witnesses, including newswoman Barbara Walters and politico Henry Kissinger, who told the jury Astor couldn’t recognize guests at her one-hundredth birthday party. The jury also heard sordid stories about how once Marshall got hold of the fortune, he used it to do things like pay the captain of his yacht a $50,000 salary, while refusing to spend $2,000 to install a safety gate to prevent his mother from falling. Marshall’s lawyers countered by calling an astounding 72 witnesses, spending 17 weeks of court time on his defense, but all for naught. Marshall, who is 85, was sentenced to twenty-five years in prison, but may serve as few as one.

Here’s a beautiful True Detective from November 1965, with an exposé on Guenther Podola. In July of 1959 while living in London, Podola stole a cache of jewelry and the police got on his trail. When they caught up to him in Kensington he fatally shot an officer in the heart. He tried to claim at his trial that he had amnesia about the event because the cops had beaten him, but a jury convicted him of murder after a rather expeditious thirty-eight minutes of deliberation—thirty of which we suspect were spent eating the free lunch. So Podola was sentenced to death and executed at Wandsworth Prison, becoming the last man hanged for murder in England. If you get a sense of déjà vu come Monday morning, that's because you’re reading our new history rewind feature, and you’ll have come upon an item about Ruth Ellis, who on July 13, 1955 became the last woman hanged for murder in England. So today we’ve presented you with the first half of a rather gaudy matched pair. Keep reading the history rewind for the second, and keep your eye out for other additions coming to Pulp Intl.     

Former New York Yankee baseball player Jim Leyritz, who is considered a god in the Big Apple for hitting a three-run homer in game 4 of the 1996 World Series, finds himself in legal trouble yet again after a heated domestic incident with his wife last night. The New York Daily News reports that Leyritz dragged his wife Karrie out of bed and hit her twice after learning she had written a check without his permission. Leyritz, whose homer is credited with saving the Yankees ’96 season, has had numerous troubles since retiring from sports. The most serious of those incidents occurred in December 2007 when, after a night of partying with a stripper, he ran a red light and broadsided an SUV driven by a waitress named Fredia Ann Veitch. Veitch was ejected from her vehicle and died at the hospital a short time later. Leyritz was taken into custody after an unsatisfactory field sobriety test, and later charged with DUI manslaughter. His situation got even worse when a police video surfaced that showed his apparent lack of concern when informed by an officer that Veitch had died. We watched the video and don't think there's any way to tell what's really going through Leyritz's mind, and he has strongly maintained that he was not being callous, but was just too shocked by events to show much reaction. He has also maintained he wasn't drunk that night, and the collision was not his fault. Soon a jury will decide whether that’s true, and in the meantime he’ll be arraigned for domestic battery.

We have another issue of On the Q.T. today. The cover subject, Beverly Aadland, was a teenaged actress who earned notoriety for being Errol Flynn’s last lover. Flynn always preferred young girls—oftentimes too young, depending on whom you believe. When he wrote his disappointingly bland (at least to us) autobiography My Wicked, Wicked Ways, the dedication read: To a small companion. We would have guessed Flynn meant his cock, since it got him into so much trouble during his life, but more informed sources than us say the companion he meant was Beverly Aadland. We stand corrected, and she stands explained for those who didn’t know who she was.

Moving on, On the Q.T. also mentions a person named Giesler. This would be Jerry Giesler, who is little known now, but was once Tinseltown’s lawyer-to-the-stars. To say he possessed secrets is an understatement considering he represented the likes of Charlie Chaplin, Edward G. Robinson, Marilyn Monroe, Shelley Winters, Lili St. Cyr, Busby Berkeley (from triple manslaughter charges), Zsa Zsa Gabor, Errol Flynn (again, with Flynn), and too many more to name. But of all his exploits, the most famous was his sensational defense of fourteen year-old Cheryl Crane from murder charges.

It’s one of the most lurid stories in Hollywood history. Crane was the daughter of megastar Lana Turner, and had endured many difficulties early in life, including alleged molestation and rape by Turner’s fourth husband, actor Lex Barker. Turner had an abusive situation of her own with mob enforcer Johnny Stompanato, a violent man who slapped her around but clung onto her for dear life no matter how hard she tried to dump him. On April 4, 1958, Cheryl Crane stabbed Stompanato to death. She claimed the mobster was beating her mother and she had no choice but to attack him. Not to be morbid, but oh to have been a fly on the wall as this fourteen year-old girl went Benihana on a feared mobster. What an astounding scene that must have been, especially to Stompanato, who you see in peaceful repose above. Anyway, Cheryl Crane said the stabbing was done in her mother's defense, and Jerry Giesler convinced a jury she was right.

Already famous enough to command what were at the time enormous retainers, Giesler's reputation was forever sealed after the Crane trial. He was simply the best, the go-to attorney for a celeb in a town that was always boiling with trouble. As a result of Giesler's exploits, Hollywood coined a catchphrase, a collection of magic words believed to possess the power to solve even the toughest problems. The phrase? "Get me Giesler."

In Egypt yesterday, billionaire hotel and resort magnate Hisham Talaat Moustafa was sentenced to death by hanging after hiring a hitman to kill his ex-lover, Lebanese pop singer Suzanne Tamim. Tamim was knifed to death at her home in Dubai last year by Mohsen el-Sukkary, a security guard employed at one of Moustafa’s numerous hotels. Moustafa’s involvement became clear through phone records and other evidence, and el-Sukkary’s hand in the crime was determined after he left DNA at the murder scene and was caught on a security camera.

Suzanne Tamim became famous in 1996 after winning an American Idol-style competition, but her career ran into problems, and she split with her manager-husband. Her affair with Moustafa was a closely guarded secret because he is married. When it soured last year Tamim took up residence in Dubai, reportedly to distance herself. Moshen el-Sukkary, who was also sentenced to death by hanging, flew to Dubai after agreeing to a two million dollar fee for his services and tricked Tamim into opening her apartment door by posing as an employee of the property. Once inside, he attacked the singer with a knife and eventually slashed her throat, but not before leaving ample evidence behind, including his own blood.

There had been widespread interest in the case in Egypt—and throughout the Arab world—because the wealthy and highly connected are seen as above the law. It was particularly thought to be true of Moustafa, who is a member of Egypt’s ruling National Democratic Party and is close to President Hosni Mubarak’s youngest son, Gamal. But in a surprising development, Moustafa was stripped of his parliamentary immunity before the trial. Moustafa might still dodge the hangman—his case will be going through a mandatory review by religious authorities, and an appeal to the high court, which means his connections may yet serve him.

Italian leader Silvio Berlusconi must have laughed himself silly when a court in Milan declared last night that he had bribed his lawyer David Mills in order to avoid corruption charges and retain illegal corporate profits. Berlusconi was accused of paying Mills 440,000€ in cash, which the lawyer then hid in a series of offshore accounts and shell companies. The money was paid during the late 1990s, when Mills was the star prosecution witness in two trials concerning the corrupt dealings of highly placed public officials. The Milanese court claimed he lied on those occasions to shield Berlusconi, and Mills himself acknowledged this when he claimed, “[I] kept Mr. B. out of a great deal of trouble he would have been in had I said all I knew.” Mills later retracted the statement, but the court decided there was more than a kernel of truth in it.

Though Mills’ testimony explicitly fingered the billionaire prime minister, Berlusconi—pay attention now, because this is where the laughter comes in—had pushed through a law last year that gives prime ministers blanket immunity from any kind of prosecution while they are in office. There's a second loophole as well—under Italian law, statues of limitations expire quickly, which is why David Mills will spend no time in jail despite his conviction, and why Berlusconi’s alleged crimes may no longer be prosecutable by the time he exits office. Berlusconi claimed he needed immunity because the many lawsuits brought against him have distracted him from his job, but his opponents say the constant accusations should be taken as a sign of Berlusconi’s corruption and are exactly why he should resign, rather than go about writing laws antithetical to the concept of democracy. For his part, the prime minister has had little to say about the commotion, but we have a feeling he's somewhere kicking back with a cappucino, smiling rather broadly.

Yesterday we were reminded that our favorite pulp politician is still around when Rod Blagojevich was indicted on a raft of federal charges, including assorted racketeering and wire fraud counts, each carrying a potential twenty-year prison sentence. Blago, who couldn’t look more untrustworthy if he wore fingerless gloves and a hoodie, once again maintained he had done nothing wrong, this time at an impromptu press conference at Walt Disney World in Orlando, Florida. Backed by his family, along with close friends Goofy, Pluto, and Duchess of the Aristocats*, Blago riffed about his innocence, but was interrupted when Goofy tapped him on the shoulder and quietly explained the concept behind a conspiracy indictment. Blago’s eyes widened as he took in Goofy’s words, and then he exclaimed, “You mean when you’re a state employee it’s illegal to even talk about breaking the law?”

The silence was deafening. Goofy and the other mascots had to be embarrassed for their friend—though it must be said their smiles never faltered. After an awkward pause Blago shrugged and said to the assembled press, “Oh, I didn’t understand how the law worked. Wow, sorry fellas. Now that Goof here has explained it, I see what all the fuss has been about. I guess, what can I say, I’m guilty.** You can plainly hear me on the FBI recordings doing this conspiracy whatever thing, so, shit, sorry to have wasted your time with all these ridiculous denials. I just didn’t get it.” He then added, “But I’ve learned my lesson. No more influence peddling for me, no sir. That’s all over with—I give my word.”

Blago then became uncharacteristically philosophical, musing about the possibility of cryogenic freezing. He suggested his head could be put on ice like Walt Disney’s until the time was right for a political comeback. “Is there someone here in the park I can talk to about that?” he asked. He next surprised everyone by apologizing to Jack Franks, who he had profanely blasted two months ago. As the press conference ended, Blago, apparently thinking his microphone was off, turned to Pluto and said, “By the way, I heard about how they downgraded you from a planet to an asteroid. Tough break buddy. But I got some friends who might be able to help out with that if the incentive is right, know what I’m saying?”

*images used transformatively for the purpose of parody, etc.
**innocent until proven guilty, not a real admission, strictly parody, and so forth.