Kansas City Mafia built a Crime Dynasty – Then lost it ht

 

At 9:15 on the morning of July 10th,   1934, outside the Park Central Hotel at   12 in Baltimore in Kansas City,   Missouri, four men opened fire on Johnny   Lazia as he stepped from his car with   his wife, Marie. 14 bullets hit him.   Nine stayed inside. Lasia dropped to the   pavement, blood pooling under the street   lamp. Marie screamed.

 

 The gunman   vanished into a waiting Chevrolet. It   took 13 minutes for the ambulance to   arrive. Johnny Lesia, age 37, died at   Research Hospital at 5:40 that morning.   The man who built Kansas City into a   mafia capital, who controlled the   police, who shook hands with Tom   Pendergast in City Hall bled out on   concrete.

 

 Because of that, the city’s   underworld entered a war that would rage   for 50 years. Kansas City was not   supposed to become a mafia empire. It   sat in the geographic heart of America,   surrounded by wheat fields and cattle   towns, a rail hub where commerce flowed.   But organized crime seemed unlikely. Yet   from 1900 to the early 1980s, the Kansas   City crime family controlled one of the   most lucrative mob operations in the   nation.

 

 They owned politicians, police   captains, labor unions, and judges. They   ran gambling empires that stretched from   Missouri to Las Vegas. They skimmed   millions from casinos on the strip. They   murdered rivals with bombs and bullets   in broad daylight. And they did it all   from a Midwestern city most Americans   thought was clean.

 

 This is the story of   how they built that kingdom, how they   ruled it, and how the FBI finally tore   it all apart. The Kansas City mob began   with immigrants in the North End. The   Italian enclave wedged between the river   and downtown. Families from Sicily and   Calabria arrived after 1900. They worked   in construction, in factories, in   produce markets. Some turned to crime.

 

  By 1912, a loose network of gangsters   formed under Joseph Deiovani, who ran   gambling and protection rackets. The   organization was small, violent, and   invisible to most of the city. It stayed   that way until prohibition. The Volstead   Act passed in 1919.   Alcohol became illegal nationwide on   January 17th, 1920.

 

 In Kansas City, the   law might as well have been printed on   tissue paper. Tom Pendergast, the   political boss who controlled city hall,   the police department, and the county   machinery, decided Kansas City would be   an open city. Liquor would flow.   Gambling would thrive. Vice would be   tolerated as long as the right pawns got   graced.

 

 Pendergast needed muscle to   enforce his will. He found it in the   North End. Johnny Lesia, born Giovani   Lazio in 1896,   grew up at 927 Independence Avenue. His   father died when he was young. Johnny   dropped out of school at age 10. His   first arrest came that same year. By 15,   he was running with street gangs. By 20,   he was in prison for armed robbery.

 

 He   served 2 years. When he got out in 1921,   Kansas City had changed. Prohibition had   opened rivers of cash. Spikesis operated   on every block. Bootleggers drove   truckloads of Canadian whiskey down from   Omaha. Gambling parlors ran 24 hours a   day. Lazia saw the opportunity. He was   smart, ruthless, and connected.

 

 He spoke   English and Italian fluently. He   understood how to balance violence with   negotiation. He climbed fast. By 1925,   he controlled most of the rackets in the   north end. Pendergas noticed the boss   needed someone to manage the city’s   criminal element to keep it profitable   and quiet. He chose Lasia. The   partnership worked like a machine.

 

  Pendergast delivered political cover.   Lazia delivered votes. In 1925,   Lazia became captain of the North End   Democratic Club. He registered thousands   of voters, many of them dead or   fictional. On election day, his men   escorted voters to the polls, sometimes   at gunpoint. Turnout in his wards   exceeded 100%.

  Pendergast won every election. In   return, Lazia got police protection. He   installed his own man, Eugene Reppert,   as police director. Cops on the beat   took orders from Leia, not from the law.   Raids were announced in advance.   Evidence disappeared from lockers.   Prosecutors dropped cases. By 1928,   Kansas City was the most corrupt city in   America.

 

 And Johnny Lazia was its   criminal architect. Lesia built an   empire on three pillars: gambling,   bootlegging, and labor rakateeering. His   gambling operations ran out of the Cuban   Gardens at 13th and Central, the   Chesterfield Club, the Riverside Club,   and dozens of backroom poker games. Bets   totaled $2 million a year. Bootleg   liquor came in from Canada and Mexico,   moved through Kansas City warehouses,   then shipped to Chicago and New York.

 

  Lazia took a cut on every crate. Labor   unions fell under his control. He placed   his men in the teamersters, the   construction trades, the hotel workers.   Strikes ended when Lazia said so.   Contracts got signed when Lazio   approved. He lived at 3,456   Armor Boulevard, drove a bulletproof   Cadillac, wore tailored suits, and kept   a Thompson submachine gun under his car   seat.

 

 He traveled to Atlantic City in   1929 for the National Mafia Summit,   sitting at the table with Al Capone,   Lucky Luciano, and Meer Lansky. Kansas   City had a seat at the table, but   Lazia’s power rested on Pendergast, and   Pendergast’s [clears throat] grip was   slipping. The federal government began   investigating election fraud in Kansas   City in 1932.

 

  Treasury agents tracked bootlegging   shipments. The FBI opened files on Lzia.   On June 17th, 1933,   everything changed that morning. Federal   agents arrived at Union Station with   Frank Nes, a bank robber they had   arrested in Arkansas. Nash was a Kansas   City native, a friend of Lazia’s crew.   As agents walked Nash to a car in the   Perkin Plaza, three gunmen opened fire   with automatic weapons.

 

 The shooting   lasted 30 seconds. Four law enforcement   officers died. FBI agent Raymond   Caffrey, Kansas City detectives William   Grooms, and Frank Hermanson and   Mallister, Oklahoma Police Chief Otto   Reed. Frank Nash died too, hit by a   bullet from his own rescuers. The Union   Station massacre shocked the nation. J.   Edgar Hoover launched a manhunt.

 

 The FBI   I blamed Charles Arthur Pretty Boy   Floyd, Vernon Miller, and Adam Richetti.   Miller was found dead in Detroit. Four   months later, tortured and strangled.   Floyd was killed in a shootout in Ohio   in 1934.   Richetti was executed in 1938, but   whispers tied Lasia to the plot.   Witnesses said Lazia had been asked to   arrange the hit.

 

 He refused, but his men   were involved. The heat came down. In   1934, a federal grand jury indicted Lzia   for tax evasion. Agents documented his   income. [clears throat] Gambling   profits, bootleg shipments, extortion   payments. Lesia earned $250,000   in 1933 alone. He reported $2,500.   The trial was set for August 1934.   Lasia knew he was going to prison.

He   also knew his enemies were circling.   Pendergastas could no longer protect   him. Rival factions inside the Kansas   City mob wanted control. On July 10th,   1934, they made their move. Lazia died   on the street. His funeral drew 10,000   mourners. Pendergast sent flowers. The   city pretended to mourn, but the   underworld had moved on.

 

 After Lazia’s   death, control of the Kansas City mob   fragmented. Charles Corollo, an oldtime   gangster, tried to claim leadership. He   lasted 3 years before dying of natural   causes in 1,937.   Pendergast himself fell in 1939.   Federal prosecutors indicted him for tax   evasion tied to insurance scams. He   pleaded guilty, paid $430,000   in fines, and served 15 months at   Levvenworth.

 

 When he got out in 1940,   his machine was broken. Kansas City   politics cleaned up, at least on paper.   The mob did not. It reorganized under   new leadership, smarter and quieter than   Lazia. Charles Bagiel emerged as the new   power broker. Born in 1909 in Bmont,   Texas, Benagio moved to Kansas City as a   child.

 

 He grew up in the North End,   learned the rackets from Laziest Crew,   and built his own network. By 1945,   Anagio controlled gambling, lone   sharking, and political influence in the   city. He rebuilt Pendergast’s machine,   registering voters, delivering   elections, and collecting cash. He   opened the First Ward Democratic Club at   1916 Truman Road, a headquarters for   deals and muscle.

 

 Pinagio thought he   could control Kansas City the way Lazia   had. He was wrong. The old alliance   between mob and politics had soured.   Reformers held power in city hall.   Governor Forest Smith, whom Bagio had   supported, refused to open up wide   gambling in Missouri. Baggio had   promised his mob superiors that he could   deliver. He failed.

 

 The commission in   Chicago and New York grew impatient. On   April 6th, 1950, Bagio and his bodyguard   Charles Garod were found shot to death   inside the First War Democratic Club.   Both men had been killed with a 38   bullets to the head execution style.   Photos of President Truman and Kansas   City politicians hung on the walls.

 

 The   murders were never solved. The message   was clear. Kansas City was for sale, but   the buyers were no longer local. Into   the vacuum stepped Nicholas Sevela, born   Jeppe Nicoli Sevela on March 19th, 1912   in Kansas City’s North End. Nick Sevela   was the son of Sicilian immigrants. His   father ran a grocery.

 

 Nick dropped out   of school, started stealing tires,   graduated to armed robbery. His first   arrest came at age 10. By his teens, he   was running with the mob. He was small,   quiet, and vicious. He did not drink,   did not use drugs, did not talk. He   listened, he watched, he learned. By   1950, Sevela had become a maid member of   the Kansas City family.

 

 By 1953,   he was the boss. He would hold that   title for 30 years, building Kansas City   into one of the most powerful mafia   families in America. Sevela restructured   the organization. He promoted his   brother Carl Cork Sevela as street boss.   Cork handled enforcement, collections,   and discipline.

 

 Nick focused on strategy   and politics. He placed trusted men in   key positions. Willie the rat Camisano   ran labor rackets and muscle. Carl Tffy   Duna controlled gambling and lone   sharking. Anthony Clla, Nick’s nephew,   managed the family’s interests in Las   Vegas. The hierarchy was clear, the   rules strict. No one talked.

 

 No one   crossed lines. Sevela ran the family   like a corporation. Kansas City under   Sevela controlled a vast territory.   western Missouri, eastern Kansas, parts   of Oklahoma and Iowa. The family earned   millions from illegal gambling. Sports   betting ran through wire rooms and   bookies in every major city in the   region.

 

 Slot machines, poker games, and   dice tables operated in backrooms and   private clubs. Sevela owned judges,   police captains, and state legislators.   He did not flaunt his power. He lived   modestly at 5,634   Jackson Avenue, a corner house with a   sloping lawn, nothing fancy. He dressed   in plain suits, drove a Lincoln, kept   his circle tight.

 

 He avoided the   spotlight. The FBI knew his name, but   [clears throat] they had no case. Seella   was untouchable. Then came Las Vegas. In   the 1960s, the Nevada desert exploded   with casinos. The Stardust, the   Tropicana, the Fremont, the Hienda, the   Marina. Behind the neon, the mob   controlled the money. Chicago,   Cleveland, Milwaukee, Detroit, and   Kansas City each had a piece.

 

 Sevela saw   the opportunity. He sent his men west.   In 1971, Sevela met with Alan Glick, a   San Diego real estate developer with a   clean record and no visible mob ties.   Glick applied for a loan from the   Teamster Central States pension fund,   $62 million to buy the Stardust and   Fremont casinos. The loan was approved.

 

  Glick became the owner. Savella became   the hidden boss. The Kansas City mob had   a foothold in Las Vegas. Skimming was   simple, brutal, and profitable. Before   casino revenue got counted for taxes,   cash was pulled from the counting rooms   and hidden. Couriers carried it out in   suitcases, laundry bags, and locked   cases.

 

 The money was driven to Kansas   City, Cleveland, Milwaukee, and Chicago,   where it was divided among the families.   The Stardust scheme alone moved $2   million a year. The Tropicana added   more. Seella controlled the Tropicana   operation through Joe Austoto, a Kansas   City associate who ran the casino’s Fei   Beer show.

 

 Austoto had access to the   counting room. He supervised the skim,   handled the cers, and reported to   Sevela. The system worked for years. The   casinos reported lower profits. The   state got less tax. The mob got rich.   Sevela used the money to expand his   empire to bribe officials to fund new   rackets.

 

 Kansas City became one of the   wealthiest crime families in the   country. But Kansas City was also at   war. In the 1970s, a violent conflict   erupted over control of the River Ki, a   historic district along the Missouri   River that had been redeveloped into a   nightlife zone. Bars, restaurants, and   clubs packed the area. Money flowed.   Savella wanted control.

 

 So did   independent operators. David Banadana, a   mobster who refused to bow to Slla,   pushed back. On July 22nd, 1976,   Wanadana was found dead in the trunk of   his Mustang, shot in the back of the   head. His son, Freddy Badana, vowed   revenge. On March 27th, 1977,   at 1:45 in the morning, two bombs   detonated in the River Key.

 

 The   explosions destroyed Pat O’Brien S and   Judge Roy Beans, two popular bars. The   blasts carved a crater 6 ft wide,   shattered windows for two blocks, and   sent debris raining onto the street.   Firefighters responded in 4 minutes. No   one was killed, but the river key was   finished. Businesses fled.

 

 Customers   stayed away. The district died. Savella   won. The war spread. The Sparrow   brothers, Michael, Carl, and Joe, were   independent operators who had clashed   with Sevela’s crew over gambling   territory. On May 24th, 1978, three   masked gunmen walked into the Virginia   Tavern at 1325 Independence Avenue and   opened fire.

 

 Michael Sparrow died   instantly, hit 12 times. Carl and Joe   survived. Carl Sparrow later told police   nothing. The Spyro family retreated. On   January 9th, 1984, Carl Sparrow was   killed by a car bomb at his used car   lot. The blast was heard for 10 blocks.   Spiro’s body was thrown 30 ft. The   Savellas had eliminated the last serious   rivals in Kansas City, but the violence   drew attention.

 

 The FBI had been   watching Sevela since the 1950s. They   had photos, surveillance logs, and   informants. They had no evidence. In   1978, that changed. Agents installed a   wire tap on a pay phone inside the Villa   Capri, a Kansas City restaurant   frequented by mob members. The tap ran   for 6 months. It captured hundreds of   hours of conversation.

 

 Agents heard   Sevela discussing the Las Vegas skim,   ordering hits, coordinating with other   families. They heard Carl Duna, Cork   Sevela, and Willie Kamisano planning   crimes. They heard Joe Agustoau   reporting on Tropicana profits. The   tapes were gold. The FBI launched   Operation Strawman, a multi-year   investigation targeting the Kansas City   mob’s control of Las Vegas casinos.

 

 On   June 11th, 1978, 50 FBI agents raided   Kansas City, Las Vegas, and other   cities. They arrested Nick Sevela, Cork   Sevela, Carl Duna, Willie Kamasano, Joe   Austoto, and 15 others. Federal   prosecutors charged them with   conspiracy, racketeering, and illegal   gambling. The trial began in 1983 in   Kansas City.

 

 Joe Agusto, facing life in   prison, turned informant. He testified   for 9 days, laying out the entire skim   operation. He identified the players,   the methods, the payoffs. He described   how cash was pulled from the Tropicana,   how it was transported, how it was   split. His testimony was devastating. On   July 29th, 1983, the jury convicted Nick   Sevela, Cork Sevela, Carl Duna, and four   others.

 

 Sentences ranged from 10 to 30   years. Nick Sevela, age 70, was   sentenced to 30 years. He died on March   12th, 1983 of lung cancer 3 months   before the verdict. He never served a   day. With Nick gone, Cork Sevela took   control. He died of a heart attack in   1994. Carl Duna stepped up, but he was   old and sick. The family was broken.   Younger members lacked the discipline   and vision of the old guard.

 

 The FBI   kept the pressure on. In 1984,   Anthony Sevela, Nick’s nephew, was   convicted of skimming and sentenced to 5   years. He ran the family from prison   through Willie Kamisano, but the empire   was shrinking. Gambling operations shut   down. Political connections dried up.   The skim was over. Las Vegas had been   cleaned up by federal regulators.

 

 Kansas   City had no revenue stream, no leverage,   no power. By 1990, the Kansas City crime   family was a shadow. Members drifted   into retirement, prison, or irrelevance.   The FBI declared victory. From 1978 to   1990, they had arrested 87 Kansas City   mobsters, convicted 63, and seized   millions in assets.

 

 The wiretaps, the   informants, the trials, all of it had   worked. The Kansas City Mafia, once one   of the most feared organizations in the   country, had been dismantled. The city   that had been an open playground for 50   years, was finally closed. But the story   did not end cleanly. In 2006, Anthony   Clla died of cancer.

 

 In 2008, Carl Duna   died in a nursing home. Willie Kamisano   Jr., son of the old enforcer was   arrested in 2010 for lone sharking and   illegal gambling. He pleaded guilty and   was sentenced to probation. In 2014,   Anthony Sevela Jr., grandson of Nick   Sevela, was convicted of bank theft and   money laundering.

 

 He was sentenced to 3   years. The Sevela name, once synonymous   with power, was now a footnote. The   family had no boss, no structure, no   operations. It was finished. Kansas City   today is clean, prosperous, and modern.   The River Key is now the River Market, a   trendy district with cafes and shops.   Union Station is a museum.

 

 The North End   is gentrified, but the bones remain. The   graves in Mount St. Mary’s cemetery hold   Johnny Lazia, Charles Benagio, Nick   Sevela, and dozens of others. Their   names are carved in stone. Their deeds   are recorded in FBI files, court   transcripts, and newspaper archives. For   nearly 50 years, the Kansas City Mafia   controlled a city, corrupted its   politics, enriched itself through   violence, and terrified anyone who   crossed it.

 

 They thought they were   untouchable. They were wrong. The law,   slow and patient, took them down. The   kingdom fell. The empire ended. And   Kansas City finally belonged to its   people. The rise and fall of the Kansas   City mafia is a story of ambition,   corruption, and inevitable collapse. It   began with immigrants chasing the   American dream in the North End.

 

 It grew   under prohibition when political   machines and organized crime formed an   alliance that seemed unbreakable. It   peaked in the Las Vegas years when   millions of dollars flowed from the   desert to the Midwest. It ended in   courtrooms and prisons when the FBI   dismantled the machine piece by piece.   The men who built it, Johnny Lazia, Nick   Sevela, Willie Kamisano, believed they   could run Kansas City forever.

 

 They   lasted 50 years. That was all. Because   in the end, no empire built on crime   survives. The law catches up. The   violence turns inward. The money runs   out. The kingdom crumbles. And the city,   scarred but standing, moves on.