Florida Songbird

George Petemezas seemed to be a young man with promise. Born in Pittsburgh of Greek parents, dark-eyed, natty George joined the Army before Pearl Harbor, served honorably as an OSS agent in Yugoslavia.

But after the war, things didn't break too well for him--until he finally landed a job as a cop in Miami Beach. It seemed to be a job exactly suited for George's sharp-witted, broad-shouldered talents. After two years, he went up in the world, became a deputy sheriff and a right-hand man to the sheriff of Dade County (Miami).

Call Me Patton. George soon became a familiar figure in Miami's upholstered nightclubs and casinos. He changed his name to Patton, although he was known around town as "George the Greek." Despite his new-found affluence, nobody bothered to invite George when the Kefauver crime investigating committee visited Miami last spring. But when the Dade County grand jury met, George was on hand. Nobody really expected a smart boy like George to talk; it was a matter of routine. But for some reason, George entered the grand jury room and began to sing. Before he was through, he had given 49 pages of fact-jammed testimony, which was sizzling enough to help indict nine Miami police officers, to put every topflight gambler out of business and, temporarily, at least, close Dade County's Gold Coast gambling casinos. After he finished testifying, George was hustled out of town.

Last week George appeared before the Kefauver committee in Washington and for an hour and 55 minutes repeated his story coolly, if not enthusiastically. He told how as a patrolman he and his buddies had shaken down nightclubs and gin mills for allowing them to stay open after hours. Now & then, he sprinkled in a big name or two. At one point he recalled hearing that a wealthy oilman named Sinclair (presumably Harry Sinclair of Teapot Dome notoriety) had lost $800,000 in two nights at the Golden Shores gambling club, and had later settled the debt for $500,000.

Close Friends. George had another startling story to tell. One Leon Bishop, a gambler, had told George that he was sent by Florida's handsome Governor Fuller Warren to Hialeah to take over crap games, roulette wheels and all gambling except horse racing. George said that Bishop walked in last December when Policeman George was helping to raid a gambling joint in Hialeah. Bishop went to the telephone. Five minutes later, George related, he was called to the telephone himself and told by another gambler to "get the hell out of there" because Leon Bishop was a close friend of the governor. Governor Warren denied George Petemezas' whole story.

In the last nine months he was with the sheriff's office, George told the committee, he was a collector for a group of deputies and received $800 weekly to be split up. He said that $300 of the money came from the S & G Syndicate, $300 from the swank Sunny Isles Casino and $200 from the operation of bolita, the Cuban numbers game. Occasional raids were made on these establishments, but only after the management had been tipped off first. In the period, George estimated he took in about $50,000 and kept $15,000 for his own cut.

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