In my previous post [https://ascentthroughthedarknightofthesoul.blogspot.com/2020/08/being-dancer-in-nightclubs-could-be.html], about this specific subject, it may have seemed that I had totally left the recounting of how the Mafia started coming after me. However, all of the things I was describing about Faith, Pam, and Erin--- the instigator, who set that whole thing in motion, is actually a part of the explanation about the Mob deciding to pay me a visit--- rather, a few of them actually. (It was a tense time for me for awhile because of this. Neil was laying as low as he could too, and probably regretting being my best friend, about this time.) The next morning, after that night that Faith had beaten me up, so badly, I made an emergency appointment with my dentist. Faith had grabbed, punched, and kicked me, not only in the gut but in my teeth, as well, when I had finally sunk to the floor of the ladies room, in real pain. Because of that attack on me my teeth felt numb to the point that I couldn't bite down to eat anything. My bruised and blackened gums were in bad shape too. It truly felt like my teeth were going to actually fall out of my mouth, and I was terrified, about that! I had endured wearing braces, as a teenager, just to end up with a pretty set of straight, white, healthy, teeth; and now, I was horrified to hear my dentist tell me after the x-rays and examination that he, too, was very concerned that my teeth might indeed begin to die at the roots and be lost due to this bad beating that I had taken from Faith. I got really mad about it, 'Mickey's Girl' or not, then. So, I took photos of my injuries, that she had inflicted on me, because I decided to file an assault complaint against her at the court house. Then, I called The Twenties, later, that day, to tell the manager, Denny, that I quit; and I told him as much. He said, "Stevie, DON'T do THAT! Don't QUIT. We need you, here. This will blow over with Faith, eventually. Mickey still wants you here; he told me." However, nothing he could say, now, would make me ever feel safe working in that bar again. I wouldn't feel safe in the dressing room, the ladies room, or anywhere else. Also, Faith was the head bartender. So, she made almost every drink that I ingested. For all I knew, she could have even been spitting in my drinks, or something else, after Pam went home, early, in tears, because I'd commented on her complete lack of rhythm to other girls, in the dressing room. Faith was a drug user. She could easily have drugged my drinks. Any time. Any drink. That was a terrifying thought, to me.
It was bad enough that there were reports back then of men spiking dancers' drinks with drops that knocked the girl unconscious and/or paralyzed her body so that even if she were aware of what was happening to her, during or after that, she was unable to move, to escape her fate--- whatever that was; whether rape, or murder, or both. I took the risk, of some guy doing that, to me, every single night I worked as a dancer, because I had to sell drinks and drink them, often sitting with guys that I didn't know or know well, and at times, depending on when the waitress brought the drinks to our table, my drink was left, sitting there, with the guy, unwatched, while I had to go up on stage to dance. The clubs required that we dancers have a drink to be able to sit there, with any guy. The guy usually wanted us drinking alcohol--- even if he wasn't himself, because he wanted to try to get us drunk, and vulnerable, in the hope that he might 'get lucky', and have sex with us, after closing time, while we weren't thinking clearly, or were passed out, and less able to fend them off. Some customers complained about the high drink prices, even though the club was providing a variety of dancers for their viewing pleasure which needed to be paid for that service. Those, guys, just didn't have realistic expectations regarding dancers. Men can be extremely self-centered about such things. Some guys would ask, "What are you drinking?", then add, indignantly, "It'd BETTER be ALCOHOL for the PRICE that I PAID for it!" Jerks! They had an attractive, scantily-clad, girl, sitting right beside them, well within touching distance, talking, with them, and THAT was what THEY wanted to COMPLAIN about. >sigh!< As a dancer, I had to try to satisfy BOTH, the CLUB rules AND the CUSTOMER expectations. However, I ALSO HAD A SAY in what went into MY body, and I was NOT going to age quickly OR become an alcoholic for ANYBODY! Not for a BAR. Not for a MAN. NO WAY! So, to keep EVERYBODY INVOLVED as HAPPY as POSSIBLE, my telling them, if they asked, that I was drinking alcohol, when it was most often not, was the compromise I made, as a dancer. It was my JOB to follow the rule, that these men were only allowed to have my company, in the club, for the price of a dancer's drink(s), during that time. The clubs simply had a policy of charging higher drink prices than regular bars--- mostly due to having to pay base wages to the line-up of live entertainment, along with bartenders, wait staff, bouncers, management; and owner of the establishment, as well. Some men, that came in these places, wanted ALOT for a LITTLE.
The closest I ever came, personally, to being drugged, when I was a dancer, as far as I know, also happened to be at The Twenties nightclub. I was sitting with a handsome young guy at a table, one night, whom I had just met. He looked very 'clean cut', too. The waitress had taken our drink orders. I was drinking only orange juice, that evening, although I had to order it as a screwdriver. [For full disclosure, I would discuss with the waitress in advance, before the shift began, if I would ever actually be drinking alcohol. My having anything other than fruit juice or a soft drink was so rare, for me, that on a night I would tell the waitress that I wanted to drink alcohol, they usually looked quite shocked, and would say, "REALLY Stevie? Are you SURE? Well, I'm telling the bartender to make them light for you since you aren't used to it. It's a long night." They were usually so surprised, because I rarely drank during the many years I was a dancer. I saw that the girls that drank regularly, and especially those that drank hard, aged so quickly. I was trying to proactively protect myself, from that happening to me. I loved dancing! Expressing myself with my body, on stage. Interpreting the music with my moves. I wanted to put off having to retire, from it, for as long as possible. I knew, all too well, that loomed ahead of me, on this career path. It was a fact which was always in the back of my mind, as soon as my early thirties, although I was able to dance, on stage, until my early forties, before I finally had to retire. I took good care of myself, and I looked younger than my age. Retiring from the business became a forced issue, whenever a girl's looks finally began to fade, especially due to an aging appearance. So, it wasn't from any desire to scam the customer, when they most often were paying for virgin drinks for me, but, I would tell them there was alcohol in it, if they questioned, or complained about it; making it an issue. I wasn't trying to cheat the customers. Most of them really enjoyed sitting, and interacting, with me, as we had a fun evening, talking together, regardless of what I was drinking or not drinking. I was simply between a rock and a hard place, at times, with this issue of what I drank.] So, anyway, the ONLY time that I KNOW of that I had my drink drugged, but--- I WILL SAY IT!--- by the GRACE of GOD, I avoided that affecting me, was this one night, at The Twenties, when the waitress brought the drinks to the table while I was performing up on the stage. It was a weekend night. The Showgirl room was small but, being popular, was packed with people, so there was alot of body heat, in the room. After just dancing, very vigorously, to a fast song, I was a bit sweaty, now, and really thirsty for a cool sip of my drink, that was waiting for me, at the table; which unbeknown to the customer was only orange juice. I grabbed my glass as soon as I sat back down. As this very 'clean cut' guy and I both looked toward the stage, to watch the girl, who went up there after me, my lips started to close over the straw, as I prepared to slurp that drink down, to cool myself off some.
Right at that moment, he said something, to me, in my ear, that I just could not hear, over that extremely loud music. (I also danced with ear plugs in, which were hidden under my long hair, to try to save my hearing, because of the extreme level of decibels in those nightclubs.) I was SO thirsty! ALL I wanted to do, in THAT moment, was slurp that cool liquid, right down, my dry throat. My mouth was already poised around the end of the straw, when he spoke, and in one small second I could have had a long drink from that glass. I'd almost decided to sip, and then respond to him. Instead, I chose to first ask him what he had said to me, though, because that seemed to be the most polite thing to do. So, bringing the glass down from my mouth, I turned to him, and said, "WHAT? I COULDN'T HEAR YOU, OVER THE MUSIC! What did you SAY?" He told me again, but I STILL could NOT hear him. Wanting to get this little interaction behind us, so I could cool down, with my drink, I leaned in, with my ear right by his mouth, and I said, again, "I'm sorry. I really cannot hear what you're SAYING to me, in here, right now, so, would you repeat it, ONE more time?" I was so glad that he did not get discouraged, or just dropped it, because, this time, I HEARD HIM. With a big smile on his face, which was meant to convey his 'party' mentality, and his, self-perceived, generosity, toward me (which was based, in large part, on the stereotype that men often have of dancers) he happily bragged to me,"I gave you a hit of acid!", to which I said, "WHAT?!?" Apparently thinking that I still could not hear him, he replied, again, "I put a hit of acid, in your drink! Enjoy!" My eyes grew wide, with horror. I have NEVER done ANY drugs, including, while I was a dancer, except for trying pot, briefly, which I didn't care for; and, that had been many years earlier, when I was in my early twenties, with a couple of male acquaintances that I did not really ever become friends with. I immediately sat the glass down on the table, and fled into the dressing room, very shaken up by the fact that I was ONLY ONE SMALL SECOND AWAY from BEING DRUGGED, by this guy! Only because he happened to STEREOTYPE dancers, as being drug-using-party-girls, so he was therefore trying to gain favor, with me, by providing a me with a drug he thought I would want--- making sure to BRAG TO ME, about that 'gift' from him--- did I manage to avoid that happening to me. LSD, AKA 'acid', is a hallucinogenic drug. Having long-lasting effects. ANYTHING, could have HAPPENED to me, had I ingested that substance into my body; which very nearly happened!
I had loved working as a dancer at The Twenties nightclub! It was the best, of the best, of the Go Go bars, in the Omaha area. But I was truly concerned for my personal safety there; after that problem had flared up with Faith, especially, but for some other reasons, as well. Mickey once told me, himself, at the end of a meeting he had with the dancers, when the others had left the room, that they would not speak up, in front of me, because I was so 'clean', they felt uncomfortable that I might actually be an undercover cop. He even admitted, he'd wondered that, about me, at times, too. It concerned me alot when I heard that, because suspicions, of me, made me a target to the people there even if only for that unfounded reason alone. Who knows? It may have even been an underlying, contributing, factor, that caused Erin to create this huge incident, about Pam, with Faith, that led to my being badly beaten. [Note: I did end up working undercover, with the Omaha police, when I went back to working at the Backdoor Lounge, at one point, in later years, fairly close to the end of my dancing career; but that was never about 'snitching' on whatever was going on in the club, or with its employees. It was to help them catch a killer, that had been a customer there, which I will explain in another post.] Because I didn't smoke, do drugs, or prostitution (at that point), and, most of the time, I didn't drink, either, despite working in a bar, all that made me kind of a 'freak of nature', to the other people, in this type of environment, setting some against me, even if only subconsciously. No one ever overtly confronted me about it to my face, though some still, wrongly, suspected that of me. Not just when I worked at The Twenties, but throughout my entire dancing career. That fact even actually ties in to why I did some limited prostitution later on (when I started working undercover with the cops), but this post is already too lengthy, to start discussing all that here.
It probably didn't help, any, with that perception, of me, when I did decide to go ahead and file the legal complaint, against Faith, for assault. Although Denny, the manager, at The Twenties, had begged me not to quit when I called him on the phone and did so, the day after Faith had brutally attacked me, in the ladies room (as what, she had felt, was the appropriate 'pay back' for Pam crying, after Erin told her I said she didn't have rhythm, when she danced), I realized that I was way too vulnerable, now, to be able to stay there safely. 'Mickey's Girl' had an issue with me. That was the biggest target I could have on me, there. Besides my real concern over my drink safety going forward since Faith was the main bartender, I was well aware that other things, could be done, to me, as well. As a matter of fact, when I finally came out of the ladies room, staggering, from the beating, the club, had closed, for the night, and only 'Schulte', who was a fairly new assistant manager, at the time, was left, in the main room. When he saw me, he was very concerned. I told him what happened and he said that I needed to make a police report. He, very likely, took things at face value, there, being new, to this type of bar business, and very naive, about it; as I once was too, when I was new to it. I protested, at first, when he suggested that, because by now, I knew full well about the 'politics' of things, at The Twenties and the implication of what calling the cops would mean; especially, because it was 'Mickey's Girl', Faith, that was involved. I tried to tell him I didn't think that was a good idea, but he went to the phone and called the cops, himself, and told me to go get dressed because they would be coming, soon. I sat in the police cruiser, that showed up, answering the officer's questions, as he filled out the report. I was in alot of physical pain, including my mouth, making that very difficult. There were problems, finishing the report, though. I didn't know, Faith's last name, or her home address, or other things, that the officer asked me. He said he would submit it, and someone from the department would follow up, to try, to get that information, so she could be arrested. 'Schulte' had insisted that in this case I absolutely should make a police report, and after he called them, I did. But, when I called, to quit, Denny asked me, why I called the cops, because he'd seen me, sitting in the cruiser, in front of the club. I answered him honestly that 'Schulte' had called them to help me. I was not going to and had told 'Schulte' that, so I didn't want to take the blame. Especially, not with suspected Mob affiliates, like Mickey, and Denny.
As soon as I was healed, enough, of my injuries from the beating, I went back to work, but at the Backdoor Lounge, who rehired me over the phone, simply from my making a quick call to ask them if I could return. I was a good enough dancer to be in fairly high demand by then so getting work was easy. Staying alive seemed to be harder, for me, at the moment. There was a gossip grapevine, going between all these Go Go bars, in the area. So, not long after that, I heard that 'Schulte' had been arrested and sentenced on a serious drug possession charge. I tracked him down, where he was serving time for that, and we exchanged mailing addresses. Through those letters he told me what happened. He had no prior criminal record but he also had no prior experience working in the 'stripper bar' business. He had naively taken things at face value; which they NEVER ARE, in those places. So, after being told to run an errand, for Mickey, which, unknown to him, was transporting those drugs, 'Schulte' was caught in the act and arrested. He told me the police had been tipped off, about that delivery, by someone that worked for Mickey. I got chills. I also, felt really sorry for him. He often wrote me lonely letters, from jail, that always started with "Day 20", "Day 42", "Day 67" and so on which I had learned inmates are prone to do, while they are locked away. He was a good guy; but in way over his head, when he began working in this bar business. He was so trusting and so gullible he was probably only hired, in the first place, as a handy stooge, to be exploited. Until this happened to him 'Schulte' had always been a stand up guy that just wanted to be decent, caring and do the right thing; including help me, after I was brutally attacked by Faith. It was a sad situation.
It also wasn't long before I realized that I did indeed have valid reasons, of my own, to be very concerned that Mickey was not done yet dealing street justice, in the form of a Mafia payback, for Faith being prosecuted for her assault on me. At first, the case against her was dead in the water because the prosecutors office at the courthouse told me, when I contacted them to ask about the status of my police report, as the officer had told me to do, that they couldn't get any cooperation from anyone, at The Twenties, with the follow-up investigation, to be able to serve Faith with an arrest warrant. When they had gone to the nightclub, to get the information, they needed to proceed, Denny had told them that Faith did not work there anymore; when she did. When I insisted that she was, absolutely, still working there (which I knew full well, because of the gossip grapevine) and showed them the photos of my injuries from the beating which they then attached to my complaint for the case against her, they sent investigators back who tried to get a last name and address on her, but again they had no cooperation at the club. Without those things, they said, she could not be served. I prayed, about it, because the dentist said it would be touch and go for quite a while as to whether I would lose any of my permanent teeth because, as he explained it, they could slowly be dying from the roots up due to the trauma to them, which may not necessarily show outwardly, right away. All the bruises, on my body, had healed, but I was extremely stressed for quite a while about this other, very real, concern, due to its impact on and implications for my life. Teeth are needed for eating, for smiling and more.
One night, as Luck would have it, I sat with a customer, at the Backdoor, for the very first time, who said, he recognized me, from when I worked at The Twenties. It was the more prestigious of the two nightclubs so he asked me why I was no longer working there. When I told him what had happened, he said that he had dated Faith, at one time, and that frankly she'd been a real bitch toward him. He not only knew her full name, but he knew her actual address as well, and he provided both of those things to me. I got those pieces of information to the courthouse and when they saw, that I was, very, serious, about wanting my case, against her, to move forward, they got behind it, and made it happen. The police officer that knew my case took it from there, and told me how they were able to go to the door of her house, to follow up, after finally finding her, and how shocked she had looked, that they were standing there. On her doorstep! Mickey and Denny had been protecting her from prosecution, by lying and being uncooperative, at the club. They had felt sure, that I would never be able to get that needed information, about Faith, to bring her to COURT justice, after her STREET justice, against me! Now, both she, and they, realized that I was not dropping it, and she was going to have to fight this case in court. I think they knew she couldn't win it, because of how badly she beat me up. At this point, I was doing this as much for what they had done to punish 'Schulte', for his caring enough, about right and wrong, and about me, to call the cops on my behalf, after Faith had done that to me. He was a good and caring man, and he did not deserve what they did to him to discredit him, give him a felony record, and get him well out of the way, behind bars, in order to mute him, in this matter.
I believe that the only reason Denny had not wanted me to quit, even though I had been one of the best dancers in the line-up at The Twenties, at the time, was to keep me under their thumb; to either, control me, by intimidation, into silence, or actually have me killed, in some way, to be rid of the issue, about 'Mickey's Girl', Faith, being taken to court, by me. If I had proceeded with the case against her, while I was still working there, I have NO DOUBT that I would either have mysteriously turned up dead--- probably, made to look, like some customer did that, to me--- or they would have prevented me from showing up, for the court date, after pretending to support me, as well as Faith, by drugging my drinks, or doing something else which would incapacitate me. If I wasn't in court, the case would automatically be dropped, I was told, because they had too many pending cases, to prosecute, to try the case, on someone's behalf, that wasn't in it to win it, with their support. It was what it was. Now, that I worked at a different club, they couldn't really personally pressure me to try to get me to drop the case, without that being real obvious, real fast.They also saw that their level of non-cooperation and intimidation hadn't been enough to deter me. So, they sent the Kansas City Mob after me, to pay me a few visits. They came to talk with me at the Backdoor Lounge, to try to scare me into silence; or something even worse. What I'm saying may sound overly dramatic to those who have never actually experienced any of this dark underbelly of how things really are versus how they tend to seem, in the Go Go bar business. I assure you, that everything I'm saying about my life here in this blog is true, though, whether you believe it, or not, and whether others want you to believe it, or not, who may have a stake in you not believing me for whatever reason. This is MY LIFE, and this is THE TRUTH.
They might have even decided to let it go because I was working for Dick McGinnis, again, at the Backdoor Lounge, and he was probably the scariest, local, thug in the strip club business, here in Omaha. Dick was certainly notorious, in his own right; and much more, than just some low-level Mafia errand boy. He also used to work for Mickey as club manager before they split from one another for whatever reason. When Dick became the manager at the Backdoor, that made them rivals, in the strip club business. (Dick eventually went to prison, for felonies, he'd committed; but he was the one that had hired me at Mickey's Razzle Dazzle in Council Bluffs, Iowa, for my first Go Go dancer gig, giving me my start in the business. So I owed that career, that I really enjoyed, to him. He also, for whatever reason, was always really there, for me, as a protector-figure, which I really needed, at times; especially, during those years I danced. He was definitely not the NURTURER type, but, HE HAD MY BACK, and he never made a move, on me, or anything inappropriate, like some of my club bosses did, or encouraged, or allowed, to happen to me.) Dick was, more than, tough enough, to get the Mafia to back off, of me, and leave me alone! He knew, as well as I did, who they were, when they were coming, to see me, in the Backdoor; and he was sitting right there in the club, watching. It was a strange situation. This, Mafia involvement, in MY life! One that I will never have all the answers about. That may be a good thing. I was scared enough about it, at the time, to prepare myself for the possibility of sudden or painful death at their hands. I got all of my personal papers in order, with 'in case of emergency' information included, in those; and I even called my mother, to try, to explain to her, what was happening, with all this. She simply laughed it off, as if she didn't believe me, or didn't care. It was hard for me to tell where she was coming from, when I'd try to tell her about the things that were important in my life and she just dismissed them as literally being nothing.
I was a very sincere and straightforward person, in my conversations with the Mafiosi visitors, I got at the Backdoor. They could tell, I was no fool, but they also saw that I was not giving them an attitude, at all. I described how worried I was about the possibility of losing all my teeth, and asked them, how they would feel, if that happened to them. I explained to them, what relatively small thing, had caused Faith to brutally attack me, in that way. Maybe, so many people, in this bar business, believing that I was, actually, some undercover cop, caused some contemplation about what, could be, unleashed, if I were 'dealt with', by them, over this. Maybe, they had told Mickey they would get me to back off, FOR HIM, if he did something THEY wanted done in the Omaha area of their Mafia territory. Maybe HE disappointed THEM, in some way. Maybe Faith had slept with these guys, or been her bitch self, to them, pissing them off at her. Even though she was known as 'Mickey's Girl', she had a very active sex life, with alot, of players, both men and women. Mickey was an older man. Maybe he couldn't even get it up anymore, but wanted Faith on his arm, at his beck and call, as a status symbol, due to her attractiveness. I can only speculate about such things. Maybe the Mafia just finally relented and let the court date come about because they knew the legal system really well, and knew that Faith would never do jail time. Sure enough, because she was a single mother with a young daughter at home and she had no prior record, to speak of, she was found guilty, when I finally faced off with her in court, that day, but she was only ordered to pay me damages, and, not a whole lot, at that. I was still glad that she saw that I didn't just let it slide though. She didn't act so tough, in that courtroom. I looked over, at her, as she fidgeted nervously, looking very uncertain, of her own future, now.
I would have dropped it, actually, from the very start, knowing the Go Go bar business as I did, by then, although, I still would have quit working at The Twenties, after 'Mickey's Girl' attacked me; for safety reasons. But 'Schulte' had cared enough about me to call the cops. Because he was unfairly framed, by Mickey and Denny, to punish him, for that, which got him put away, for a long time, only because he had done the decent thing, to try to help me, I wasn't going to let them get away with it. Not, if I lived, to tell it; which I did. In court. On the record. Leaving Faith with a, criminal, record, of her own, then, for the first time in her life and just maybe a little less arrogance about administering an excessive amount of street justice to someone the next time some new girl, that couldn't dance worth a damn, got her feelings hurt and cried. I hadn't even said that to Pam's face. Erin had caused all this, over something so small. Some people really believe in Karma. I am one who hopes that happens, in some cases; to some people, anyway, that seem particularly deserving, of reaping, what they have sown, into the lives of others. But, I believe in God; and in both His justice and His mercy. Somewhere along the way in her life, I pray, He taught a lesson to Erin, about why she should not start drama, in other peoples' lives, just because, she has a cold, callous, sense of humor, and, wants to amuse herself, with what unfolds, from her doing that. It had, real, consequences at the time she did it to me. Except for her. So, I hope she 'got hers', some way, in her life; to teach her not to do that to people again.
Years later, a brand new club opened, in Omaha, called Ziegfeld's (or, Ziegfield's; I can't recall the exact spelling of the name, now; and when researching it, online, for this post, the internet seems to be strangely scrubbed, of ANY information, about this place--- almost as if it NEVER EXISTED, although it did). It may very well have been one of the worst decisions I ever made, but I took a job, as a dancer, there, simply because it was closest, to where I lived, at the time. Ziegfeld's was in downtown Omaha, making it an easy commute for me, after I'd moved down to Bellevue, for awhile. That is a smaller city, considered part of the Omaha metro area. There were no Go Go bars there, though, which was strange, considering it hosts the Air Force base in this area which is full of military men. Working in this bar may have been 'Ziegfeld's FOLLY' for me because this nightclub was both owned and managed directly by the Kansas City Mob. Medium-level Mafia members had been sent as actual transplants to establish their presence, more directly, and strongly, in the Omaha bar scene. For me, to cross paths, with them, again, now, and even ask them for a job, . . . I admit, was not exercising very good judgement on my part, to say the least! I just loved being a nightclub dancer, that much, though; and, this was a glamorous, sophisticated, brand new Go Go bar, now coming to our part of the country. It was a cut above, what the, usual, Omaha bars looked like. It looked Big Time, in a whole new way.
When I applied, for the job, I talked to these two mobsters, in private, about the past situation, because I needed to know, up front, if they held a grudge against me going forward. I couldn't have just changed my stage name, to try, to hide my identity, from them. The Twenties, which had Mafia ties, with this very crime family, already had my stage name and my real name, for their payroll records and customers in the Omaha area had now known me for over a decade as Stevie. It was all something that was not a secret to the Mafia, or anything I could even try to hide, from them. They absolutely knew, who I was, it turned out, which wasn't surprising, to me. But, their only interest, they claimed, was in getting all of the dancing girls they could hire, from the available pool, of talent, in Omaha, so they could to fill a line-up, for a two-shift-show. Some, of the Go Go bars, were only opened evenings, starting in late afternoon, and ran one, long, shift. Other places started around noon, and ran two shifts of dancers, to stay open from noon until 1 AM, in Omaha, or 'til 2 AM, in Council Bluffs, Iowa. It took alot of girls, to keep that going, and have enough entertainers available to keep the customers interested and engaged. So, after asking them about my working there, I felt fairly sure, they needed my body alive and well and dancing on their stage rather than floating in the river. I was a good dancer, and fairly attractive, so I was more asset than liability for them with this new expansion of their influence.
I took the risk, and started working, for them, on the day shift, because that was harder to fill in the Go Go business, since girls made more money in tips working nights. At least it earned me some points, with these guys. I was hoping that it would make me a valuable enough asset, to keep me from any harm, from them, frankly. Many dancers, did not like dancing in the daytime, so those slots were always much harder to fill than those on the night shift. There were usually less customers which, most often, meant less tips, but it was also boring, whenever there were so few customers to interact with. We still had drink quotas, too, which were harder to fulfill, on the day shift. Sometimes we even had to buy our own drinks just to meet that number, to show our support for the establishment, and stay in good standing with this club, that was employing us. >sigh!< All things considered, it just wasn't as fun. Ziegfeld's had a great plus, on day shift, though. Every weekday, they would set out a big lunch buffet for the customers to come spend their lunch hour watching dancers perform live; as they ate their food. It was good, too! We got to eat it, also, with customers buying our lunches, along with their own, including drinks. It was easy to get hungry working in these clubs, due to dancing long hours, usually with no available food during the shift. To keep my energy up for all that exertion as a performer, I brought a few candy bars or cookies, to keep me going. This spread, Ziegfeld's provided, was so much nicer!
I continued to keep my guard up, though, because, I could not really be expected to 'take their word', that they had 'let bygones be bygones', regarding the situation with me taking 'Mickey's Girl', Faith, to court, years before. Mafiosi tend to have exceptionally long memories, and hold exceptionally deep grudges; if they so choose. Their claiming they didn't have one toward me, was small comfort, if any. I was, very, careful to watch, when my drinks were prepared, and to stay sober, and alert, at all times. I heard through the gossip grapevine, they committed arson by torching their club back in Kansas City, for some reason, to get the insurance money. Then they'd invested it in this place in Omaha when the arson charge couldn't be definitively proved against them. That was probably because there was much less, local, suspicion of them, here in Omaha where they aren't as prominent, which meant there was less heat on them than had been emanating, from the legal authorities, back in Missouri. The Omaha City Council is strict, in their demands of bar owners here, though, and they have been pretty successful at running any questionable, shady, or problematic bars, that open here, out of business. I wonder if they ever went after Ziegfeld's, especially due to the Mafia ownership; to stop, Mob presence, from taking hold, in Omaha, and becoming a big problem, for this, generally, fairly conservative city. After all, the local laws in Omaha, when I was a dancer, at least, did not allow topless or nude dancing, and our bikini-style costumes, which were to be worn, at all times, could only include the thong-type bottom, showing just butt cheeks. Pretty tame stuff. Compared to many places.
It was going along okay, for me, working for them at Ziegfeld's, when one day, some guy came in that seemed to be a personal buddy of these two thugs which were running the place for the Mob. It appeared that he had driven up from Kansas City to pay them a visit and check out the new bar, so they wanted to show him a good time. Unfortunately, this visiting thug-friend of the Mafiosi managers of the club took a liking to ME. He sat with his face hanging over the floor of the stage, intently watching my every move, up there, and then he wanted me to come sit with him. He was just the most unsavory character. He kept asking me to KISS him, while I was up on stage, and I refused. I tried, unsuccessfully, to sidestep him, and his advances, while trying, to be polite. He was extremely determined and persistent. Nothing was deterring him. To make matters worse, my Mafia bosses seemed to be encouraging him to keep after me for whatever reason, rather than introducing their friend to some other, perhaps more amenable, dancers. I was trying as hard as I could to delay the seemingly inevitable of my having to go sit with him, because I felt he was too pushy; and grabby. I also thought he would try to force his spittle on my mouth in some sloppy kiss, because he had already tried to kiss me, when he tipped me. I even feared my Mafia bosses might try to ORDER ME to 'make his day' in some way or other, that I HAD NO INTENTION OF DOING, with him. It was a bad situation, and I still didn't really trust these Mob guys, or know where I really stood, with them, and what they might do, to me.
I kept trying to avoid him, so I told him after my dance that I was going to the dressing room, to change my costume. It was located back behind the stage in a dark, isolated, hallway; as were the restrooms. I went to the ladies room, first, though, and he must have followed me, because he came in there! While I was in there--- alone, except for him! This was a very isolated part of the bar, and the music was so loud that no one would even hear me, if I started to scream. The only reason I even KNEW that he had come in there--- by all appearances LOOKING FOR ME (since it was CLEARLY marked LADIES room)--- was because I did something, that day, that I almost never do, when I use the toilet, in a public ladies room. I sat down on the toilet, with the stall door left open. I don't even know why I did that then, but I was sure glad that I did! I would not have known he had come in there. He had been a constant problem, for me, ever since he got there, that day. But, I never thought, that he would go this far. Now, as I saw him enter, the ladies room, by his reflection in the mirror, I sat there, on the toilet, with my pants down, not at all sure HOW MUCH FARTHER he planned on going. But I strongly felt that I was about to be RAPED, and I HAD ALREADY HAD THAT HAPPEN to me; and by a man that was as much a stranger to me as he was. I was determined, I never would again, if I could possibly prevent it.
This bar had previously existed as a regular nightclub, with DJs, and couples' dancing, before it went out of business, and the Mob had bought it, making it into a Go Go bar. Because of its original design, the ladies room was huge, with about 30 stalls in it, and a very long mirror, all along the wall, across from the stalls. I had gone to the stall at the very farthest end, for more privacy, in case some other girl came in, while I was in there. I knew from my years in the bar business, that, most likely, no other dancers would go that far down the row, to pick a stall, to use, with so many, to choose from. I hadn't even had a chance, to pee, yet, but I was seated, with my costume bottom down, around my knees, when I tried, my best, not to gasp out loud, from shock, and fear, as I saw him, in the mirror, as he walked in, with a grin on his face, and he started coming down the row of stalls, looking in each one; most likely, FOR ME. Quietly, I quickly pulled up my thong-bikini bottom, although the ties at the waist were still undone, and hanging down, as I watched him in the mirror getting closer and closer, to where I was, as he searched, each stall. Where I now stood, in this last stall, of the row, was the most vulnerable place in the room because I was the farthest I could be from the door for me to try to get past him, to escape his intentions toward me. It was also why I was even less likely to be heard if I tried to scream for help. Based on all his actions, toward me, since he had arrived at the club, that day, it was obvious, that he wanted to do more, than just sit, and talk, with me. It had also appeared that those two thugs, who were my bosses, had told him to go after me, specifically, based upon their conversations, and gestures, that I had seen them doing, with him, upon his arrival. I just wasn't sure whether that was some supposed 'compliment' to me, or some harm, they meant to allow or even facilitate to happen, toward me. They didn't even use bouncers in this place. At least, not on the day shift, if at all; which was scary, in itself, in this kind of a club.
I knew that I had one chance to keep this guy from grabbing me, and to prevent whatever else he would, likely, try to do, to me, after getting his hands on me. When he was about eight stalls away from me, and he still had not given up searching each stall (which I was hoping he would do, after checking so many of them; due to assuming that I wasn't even in there, at some point, in his search), I watched him, in the mirror, as he stuck his head into the next one, he checked, in the row, and in that split second, I literally ran for my life! Thanks to the element of surprise, I got past him, and out into the hall, starting to scream as soon as I got out there. I was shocked, then, but not surprised, to see one of the two Mafia managers, standing out in that hall, looking toward the ladies room door. He looked as if he had been standing guard; but, apparently NOT to protect ME, from his buddy, but to try to keep other people away from that area so his friend could find me, and get away with, whatever he (or, they!) were planning, to do, to me. I just ran past him, too, as I realized that this was some kind of set-up that I was being victimized by and that was all I needed to know! Thankfully, a regular club customer, whom I knew, came into the hallway, right at that moment, on his way, to the men's room, which was further down, that hall. I ran right into his arms and breathlessly told him about the guy in the ladies room, so that now someone else knew, which also helped to protect me. He looked down, at my costume bottom, sitting askew, on my hips, not quite pulled all the way up, and into place, with the waist ties still hanging down on both sides, and he could see from that, and the sheer terror on my face, that something had definitely just happened to me, back in that hallway, that clearly shouldn't have.
Of course, I quit there. I asked him to stand guard in the hall outside the dressing room, while I got my things, to leave. I never even got my final paycheck from there, because they claimed I had to come in, to pick it up from them, in person. They wouldn't just mail it to me. I didn't trust them AT ALL, anymore, in ANY way, so I refused to do that. There was no way, that I was ever going back in there again! I filed a complaint, about never getting my last paycheck from them, though. Believe it or not! So, that was investigated. But, I was eventually told, they went out of business (although, that was not from them torching the place; this time), and that no one was able to even determine, or locate, whom to contact, about the money, that they still owed me. I was told that there were some other girls who had worked there who had also complained that they ended up not being paid. The official investigation, into our unpaid wages, also confirmed the information, that I had heard, about the arson these guys were suspected of doing, to their Kansas City club; which was never definitively proven, and prosecuted. Mobsters are adept at 'bucking the system', and keeping out of the clutches of the law. So, call me crazy, for going to work directly for the Kansas City crime family, after what I had already gone through with them when I took 'Mickey's Girl', Faith, to court for her assault on me. But since I'm obviously writing this post, perhaps 30 years later, I lived to tell it. My misadventures with the mafia. . . . TWICE!
So, being a dancer could, definitely, be dangerous, and even potentially deadly, whether those things came from club customers, your co-worker(s), your employer, or even the Mafia. During my dancer career, I had a mentally ill, and obsessed, customer, pin me, to the wall, of the club, with his hand clenching me by the throat, screaming at me that I ruined his whole life, when he barely even knew me! I had a co-worker, beat the crap, out of me, because I simply stated that it would be nice, if the new girl, would pay some attention to matching her moves to the beat of the songs, when she was up on stage; which nearly cost me my permanent teeth. When Mafia got involved, it could have cost me my very life, as well, at some point, during my taking her to court for that assault. It seemed that I was almost raped, again(!), just going to the ladies room to pee. (Come to think of it, since I was badly beaten, in the ladies room, at one nightclub, and nearly sexually assaulted, in the ladies room, at another nightclub, I would have probably been safer, while working as a dancer, in these places, if I had just, stayed out, of the ladies rooms!) My drinks could be drugged, either by other employees, or by customers; which did happen, to me. But, by the Grace of God, I, just barely, avoided, drinking that drug down. God only knows what would have happened, to me, if I had! I married TWO DIFFERENT CLUB CUSTOMERS, and, BOTH of them, were very abusive, toward me, in different ways; but the last one, of them, was like the son of Satan toward me! But, we haven't even gotten to that part, of the story, yet, since there, has been, and, continues to be, so much to cover, about the years I was a dancer. All these things, that I have talked about in this post, and in the previous post, about the safety issues involved in being a dancer in these 'strip clubs', are just a few representative examples, out of all the things, that happened to me, during my career, as an exotic dancer. Despite their outward appearance, those nightclubs could, definitely, be dangerous. In many different ways.
The following is information which was referenced in this blog post:
Kansas City Crime Family:
Founding location Kansas City, Missouri, United States
Years active 1912–present
Territory Kansas City metropolitan area and the entire states of Missouri, and Nebraska, as well as Las Vegas, Los Angeles, Oklahoma and Washington, D.C.
The Kansas City mob still has some gambling and loansharking with some extortion involving drugs and the strip club industry' https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kansas_City_crime_family
