Chicago Sun-Times: Casino in Rosemont? It won't happen

Honestly, you couldn't make this stuff up if you tried. Who would have imagined that Joey "The Clown" Lombardo, the 76-year- old indicted Chicago mobster still on the lam, would have turned into such an inveterate letter writer? And who knew The Clown was such an avid reader of the Chicago Sun-Times? Not our subscription department, I can tell you that.

Joey's latest letter postmarked Aug. 25 was mailed from somewhere in Chicago. It was sent to his attorney, Rick Halprin. When Halprin opened it, two Sun-Times clips tumbled out, one of which carried the headline, "FBI agent: Rosemont mayor met with the mob."

It was a story about Lombardo's alleged connection to Rosemont Mayor Don Stephens, and it clearly didn't sit well with The Clown. The article detailed an FBI agent's testimony that in 1999, Lombardo was present at a big mob pow-wow at Armand's, a restaurant in Elmwood Park. He was allegedly seen spooling pasta with a veritable who's who of the Chicago Outfit, including John "No Nose" DiFronzo, Rudy Fratto and Joe "The Builder" Andriacchi. Also at the table according to the agent: Rosemont Mayor Stephens.

"Let me inform you," Lombardo writes, "that is positively a lie. I have never, never ever sat down with Mayor Stephens and the rest of the names in the article. I will take truth serum or lie detector test . . ."

Stephens, as recently as this past week, has said the same thing and even under oath. "I've never had lunch with any of these people. I've never had breakfast. . . . I've never went to the movies with any of these people. Nothing."

Unlike Joey "The Clown" Lombardo, who is a fugitive from federal racketeering charges that include grisly mob murders, Stephens is not charged with any crime here.

I can understand why Lombardo is still running for his life.

What I can't figure out is why Stephens is still doing battle.

For some reason, he remains locked in a fight to bring a casino to his beloved Rosemont, the village he founded almost 50 years ago in the shadow of O'Hare Airport. Persistent allegations of mob connections coupled with serious questions about the truthfulness of the owners of one proposed casino have all but dashed his dream. At the moment, Attorney General Lisa Madigan is in court before Judge Abner Mikva trying to revoke the gaming license of the Emerald Casino, and with it, the plan to locate a gambling palace in Rosemont. And so last week, Stephens was on the witness stand being asked once again about all the mobsters and/or felons he has ever met or known, including Lombardo. Stephens has declared such charges "lunacy."

At 77, Stephens is one of the biggest political bosses this state has seen, despite the fact Rosemont is one of Illinois' tiniest municipalities.

Fifty years ago, Rosemont was nothing but a collection of septic fields and houses of prostitution. Today it is one of the nation's major convention venues, complete with big-name restaurants, hotels and banks.

About the most that has been conclusively proved about Stephens' mob connections is that he bought a motel five decades ago from the late Outfit boss Sam Giancana, who generously financed the mortgage. And that Stephens has met, done some business with, or accepted campaign contributions from some known or presumed mob associates.

Let's face it. A casino in Rosemont is doomed. And Stephens, quite honestly, doesn't need it. He is living a storied life. Married seven or eight times (depending on how you count two marriages to one wife), he and the lovely Katherine have been together for 15 years or more.

He lives in a village of his own creation, reminded of his legacy wherever he looks, considering just about every major public building is named after him. And he is an undisputed bipartisan political powerbroker in the state of Illinois, with huge political clout and a hefty campaign war chest to back it up.

Investigated many times and federally indicted twice for tax fraud and mail fraud, Stephens beat both raps, in 1984 and again in 1985. Talk about being a sharp stick in the eye of federal prosecutors (exceeded only now, perhaps, by the feds' persistent embarrassment that Joey "The Clown" is still out and about).

What I'm trying to say, Mayor Stephens, is forget about the $50 million vacant parking garage you built in preparation for a casino. Write off the garage. Give up the casino. And instead, get ready to celebrate Rosemont's 50th anniversary on Jan. 20.

In gambling, the house in the end always wins. And in this case, you're the house.