Las Vegas mob stories revived in ‘The Oscar Show’
Oscar Goodman hates rats. But he needs one now.
“How can I find a rat before Tuesday?” he asks during breakfast at the Omelet House on West Charleston Blvd., in the Goodman Booth decorated as a Mayor(s) Goodman shrine. A City of Las Vegas seal hangs just above the seal of the State of Nevada. Oscar and Carolyn Goodman are shown in photos with restaurant owner Kevin Mills, honoring their combined 25 years serving the city.
During an hourlong visit, Goodman dusts his scrambled eggs with pepper while stressing over his quest to find a fake rat online. He desperately wants this prop for his next Dinner Series presentation Wednesday night at Oscar’s Steakhouse at the Plaza. The rat will join the Bombay Sapphire martini as Goodman’s props for the night.
As you’ll learn, the rat has figured prominently Goodman’s career, and his Dinner Series.
The 85-year-old Goodman is the star of these recurring shows, which start with a cocktail hang at 6 p.m. on select Wednesdays. Billed as a night when “Old Vegas Comes to Life,” the event sells out almost immediately upon posting, a table for two (including a three-course meal and specialty cocktail and wine) running $588.19.
The Oscar Show, unofficially titled, has been running since Goodman left office in 2012 and is now posted on Plaza CEO Jonathan Jossel’s “On The Corner of Main Street” podcast.
The series opened in the restaurant’s 70-seat hideaway space, behind an unmarked door near the host stand. Similar to how lounge acts once graduated to showrooms in the Old Vegas days, the show has moved into the 140-capacity main room.
Dignitaries in the house
The Dinner Series is usually seasoned with an a eclectic crowd of dignitaries (prepare for some heavy bold-face action): Raiders owner Mark Davis met ZZ Top’s Billy F. Gibbons at one of these events; the late Sen. Harry Reid; Tamares Group Chairman Poju Zabludowicz (which owns Plaza); Athletics President Marc Badain; the D Las Vegas, Circa and Golden Gate owner Derek Stevens and his wife, Nicole; longtime Vegas public servant Shelley Berkley (during her campaign to become the first non-Goodman mayor of Las Vegas in a quarter-century); Cleveland Clinic Lou Ruvo Center founders Larry and Camille Ruvo; hip-hop legend Flavor Flav; gaming legend Jack Binion; Michael Severino of the Cleveland Clinic Ruvo Center and Southern Glazers Wine & Spirits of Nevada; renowned sports-betting exec Joe Asher; developer Sam Cherry; Mob Museum President and CEO Jonathan Ullman; former Sheriff Bill Young; Dapper Companies founder J Dapper; longtime Siegfried & Roy manager Bernie Yuman; Fremont Street Experience President and CEO Andrew Simon; Neon Museum Executive Director Aaron Berger; The Siegel Group, Siegel’s Bagelmania and Pinkbox Donuts founder (and now Piero’s Italian Cuisine owner) Steve Siegel and his wife, Judi; “Mavericks” at the Plaza creator and co-star Amy Saunders; “Girls Next Level” podcaster and former “Peepshow” co-star Holly Madison; a host of social-media influencers; legal professionals and curious tourists from across the country; and past Goodman “associates” have filed in.
Of course the Goodman family — led by Carolyn — and Jossel with his wife, Emily; are fixtures at the event.
Going off the script
Goodman characteristically opens with a talk about his days as the city’s “Mob Lawyer,” spinning tales of repping Tony Spilotro, Lefty Rosenthal and Jimmy Chagra.
A favorite sub-subject is Goodman’s disdain for “The Black Book,” the Nevada Gaming Control Board’s list of persons banned from casinos for convictions or violations. He frequently recites his years with Spilotro, whom he forever defends as having been respectful to his family, held in such high esteem that the two are represented by the bronze statue called “Good Counsel,” at the restaurant’s entrance.
Goodman is quick to mention he was a better attorney than actor, proven by his turn in “Casino,” a scene for which was filmed in the restaurant.
Splitting from his prepared remarks, jotted in tiny print on yellow legal pads, Goodman will often take after the audience, individually (hello) or as a group. He asks, “Does anyone know who Estes Kefauver is?” If the response is tepid, “This is the stupidest crowd I’ve ever seen!”
One guest stormed from the room after Goodman roasted her in the Q&A session. It’s not for the meek. Even Carolyn Goodman has been a roastee in these improv-inspired events.
And now, the rat
During a recent dinner series, Goodman revived an old rat that he used for decades in court for dramatic effect. He explained that he would show up to the courtroom with the snarling rodent in a bag. Then he would dramatically display the prop when angrily referring to witnessed who had been “turned” on defendants to testify as government informants.
Goodman always referred to the late mob figure-turned-informant Frank Cullotta as a rat, and he coudn’t stand. him, either.
The original rat has been retired and laid to rest, too torn up to be presented in public.
“Over the past two days, I’ve been searching Amazon for rats,” Goodman says. “When you look up ‘rat,’ they must have a thousand different kinds of rats. They have rubber rats, they have plastic rats, they have rats are full of stuffing.”
Goodman says, “I’m putting out an all-points bulletin to have a rat before Wednesday.”
The theme for this talk is Tricks of the Trade: How David Slew Goliath. Goodman plans on recalling the mismatched defendants he represented over his law career.
“They fed their rats and took care of them,” Goodman says. “My rat didn’t need any food. It was a very cost-effective rat.” The message is, if the government was using rats, so would Goodman, as he continues to hold court in Las Vegas.
John Katsilometes’ column runs daily in the A section. Contact him at jkatsilometes@reviewjournal.com. Follow @johnnykats on X, @JohnnyKats1 on Instagram.
