And studio executives who learned of Elvis’s gambling debt were cautious. But Tony Benadetto wouldn’t wait. In Las Vegas, the rules were simple. Pay your debt or pay the price. Elvis was given a final warning. 48 hours. All the money with interest. On the evening of November 15th, 1962, Elvis’s car was followed as he returned from Graceland to Las Vegas.
They finally caught him. Elvis’s Cadillac was stopped on a desert road. Two men got out of the car. They looked professional, weren’t in a hurry. They had done this job before. Elvis sat in the car, frozen with fear. He recognized these men. They were Tony Benadetto’s most trusted men. Mr. Presley, one of the men said, knocking on Elvis’s window. Mr. Benadetto wants to see you.
Elvis knew what would happen. If he went with him, he might not come back. Listen, we can work out the money issue. I just need a little time. Your time is up, the man said, and opened Elvis’s door. Get out of the car. They beat him. Not severely, but enough. They were sending a message.
Each punch, each kick was a sign that Tony Benadetto’s patience had run out. When Elvis fell to the ground, one of the men leaned down and whispered in his ear, “You have 48 hours. Either you find the money or they’ll never find you again.” Elvis remained on the ground, swallowing desert dust. The men got in their cars and left.
Elvis was left alone in the darkness, face to face with the fear of death. Elvis went straight to Dean Martin’s house. He had no other choice. He couldn’t go to Frank Sinatra. Frank was too much of a rule follower. He couldn’t go to Sammy Davis Jr. He had his own problems with the mob. Dean Martin was different. He was both powerful and understanding.
And most importantly, he was respected in Las Vegas. When Dean opened the door and saw Elvis, he was surprised, but didn’t ask any questions. He saw the marks on Elvis’s face, noticed his hands trembling. He brought Elvis inside, gave him a whiskey, and sat down. You look bad, kid,” Dean said calmly. “What happened?” Elvis told him everything.
The gambling, the debt, the threats, the beating. Dean listened silently, never judging. “How much?” Dean asked calmly. “$200,000?” Elvis said with shame. “Dean, I know it’s a lot of money, but I have no one else.” Dean Martin was silent for a moment. This was a lot of money, even for him.
But Elvis’s life was in danger, and Dean Martin never left his friends alone. “Who do you owe?” Dean asked. “Tony Benadetto.” Dean’s face hardened. He knew Tony Benadetto. He was one of Vegas’s most ruthless lone sharks. He considered killing his debtors a legitimate business. Elvis, Tony Benadetto is no joke. This man kills people as a hobby, Dean said. I know.
That’s why I came to you. Okay. Dean said, “I’ll give you the money.” Elvis couldn’t believe it. 220,000, Dean. That’s a lot of money. You have children, too. A family. Dean stood up and went to the window. He was thinking under the lights of Los Angeles. This money really was a lot. But Elvis’s life was worth more.
Elvis, you’re my friend, Dean said, turning around. I don’t let my friends die, and I don’t let Tony Benadetto touch my friends either. Elvis’s eyes filled with tears. For the first time in his life, he had seen someone stand by him like this. But Dean Martin was different. He wasn’t just a friend. He was like family. But Dean Martin had one condition.
We’ll handle this business my way. Dean said, “I’ll talk to Tony. You’ll just stand there and say nothing. We’ll do this business with honor.” Elvis nodded. Whatever Dean’s rules were, he would follow them. His life was built on this. The next night, Dean and Elvis went to the Sands Hotel together. Tony Benadetto was waiting for them in his private room.
The room was luxurious but cold. Leather chairs, crystal whiskey bottles, photos of mob bosses on the walls. Tony had two bodyguards with him. Big silent men. Dean recognized them. Some of Las Vegas’s most dangerous men. Dean Martin, Tony said standing up. I wasn’t expecting this surprise, but it’s a pleasant surprise.
Tony, I came to discuss Elvis’s debt matter, Dean said. Tony smiled, that cold, calculating smile. Ah, of course. $200,000 plus interest. Late payment penalty now $220,000. Dean pulled out his wallet and placed a check on the table. $220,000. The debt is completely paid. Everyone in the room was surprised, even Tony. He really didn’t expect this money to be paid.
Tony took the check and examined it. It was real from Dean Martin’s personal account. The signature was real. The money was real. Business done, Tony said. Then he looked at Dean. But I’m curious, Dean. Why? Elvis isn’t your brother. Not your family. This is a lot of money. Dean Martin spoke those words with a coldness Tony would never forget.
Tony, some things are worth more than money. You can’t understand this because you don’t possess anything with a soul. Tony’s face hardened. No one talked to him like that. But Dean Martin was different. He had a power that gave him immunity. Business is done, Dean said and stood up. Elvis, we’re leaving. Elvis had never spoken.
He had just watched, seen his life being saved. Dean Martin had saved Elvis’s life. He had given $220,000 without any questions, without expecting any repayment. Elvis was free, alive, saved from Tony Benadetto’s threat. But what Elvis did was a betrayal that Dean never expected. Two weeks later, Elvis held a press conference, the subject, about Dean Martin.
The press conference was held at Graceland. In Elvis’s house, there were dozens of journalists. Elvis told them the story he had prepared. It was clear that Colonel Parker was also involved in this plan. Elvis’s manager was trying to protect Elvis’s image by damaging Dean’s reputation. Friends, Elvis said to the journalists, “I have to tell you a sad truth about Dean Martin.
Dean gambled with me and lost big. He borrowed $220,000 from me, but now he says he can’t pay.” He had completely turned the story around. He was showing Dean as the debtor and worse, he was portraying Dean as unreliable. One of the journalists asked, “Elvis, why would Dean Martin borrow so much money from you? He’s a very successful artist.
He lost himself at the gambling table.” Elvis coldly lied. I tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t listen. I now realize Dean has a gambling problem. Another journalist asked, “Are you considering filing a lawsuit?” I might have to,” Elvis said with a sad expression. “Dean was my friend, but I can’t trust him anymore.” Dean Martin watched this news on television at home, alone, silently.
