Posted date July 23, 2013 - 6:10am
Two-line obituary doesn't do justice to shadowy R.D.
Matthews
By JOHN L. SMITH
LAS VEGAS REVIEW-JOURNAL
Although some eventually made the post office walls, the
police blotters and occasionally even the newspapers, others managed to thrive
in those shadows, elusive as ghosts in the neon.
Consider R.D. Matthews, who died recently at age 92, one of
the most formidable apparitions from our gambling past. He was a
ranking and respected member of what journalists once called the sporting
crowd, which was a playful euphemism for the gamblers, hustlers, party girls
and killers who lived by night on the edge of polite society.
Russell Douglas Matthews passed away in near anonymity —
just a two-line obituary in a Dallas
newspaper. It might have been the way he wanted it, but that quiet exit doesn’t
do justice to the mystery that accompanied his long and reputedly violent life
as a trusted friend of the late downtown casino legend Benny Binion. The fact
you’ve never read much about Matthews in the local press makes a statement in
itself.
He was born in Aspermont , Texas ,
on July 26, 1920 . Matthews
enlisted in the Marines after Pearl Harbor and was
awarded a Navy Cross and Purple Heart. He is said to have inflicted more than
his share of wounds in underworld wars after returning home. A member of the
notorious Hollis de Lois Green gang of Texas ,
he was a Dallas bookmaker,
nightclub manager and was known on the street as a stealthy enforcer.
Matthews was so well- acquainted with the inside players
associated with the assassination of President John F. Kennedy that he rated mention
in the Warren Commission Report and was interviewed at length in 1978 by the
House Select Committee on Assassinations. (His attorney was Binion friend and
future U.S. District Judge Harry Claiborne.)
Matthews intrigued investigators because of his intimate
familiarity with the gambling underworld in Dallas ,
Las Vegas and Cuba ,
where he had lived for a time after the war.
He also had a long friendship with Jack Ruby. But, then,
Matthews knew most of the players in the Oswald-Ruby matrix.
Back in October 1963, Ruby placed a call to the Matthews
home. A day later, according to one account, Ruby was in touch with Oswald. The
connection has intrigued officials and fascinated assassination theorists for
decades.
Not long after returning from the war, Matthews reacquainted
himself with the Dallas underworld,
where being an expert with a firearm guaranteed employment and respect.
Officially, Matthews worked for Binion starting in the late
1970s, but multiple sources confirm they knew each other well decades earlier
in Dallas , where Cowboy Benny was
known as a rackets king and Matthews’ reputation for getting things done was
well- established. Matthews, who wore an eye patch but never seemed to miss
much around the Horseshoe, was considered a dear friend and protector of the
Binion family.
His street reputation was so well-known to the Las
Vegas sporting crowd that a single slap from the then
80-year-old Matthews sent maverick casino man Bob Stupak into a panic. The
incident occurred in August 2000 at Piero’s restaurant at a time Stupak was at
odds with the new ownership of the Horseshoe led by Becky Binion Behnen.
No stranger to controversy during his extremely colorful
career as the owner of Vegas World and big-idea man behind the Stratosphere
tower, Stupak was so unnerved by the encounter with Matthews that he only stammered
at my question and quickly declined comment.
R.D. Matthews was a ghost of Las Vegas
past, but even as an octogenarian he was capable of stepping from the shadows
and haunting the present.
John L. Smith’s column appears Sunday, Tuesday, Wednesday
and Friday. E-mail him at jsmith@reviewjournal.com or
call (702) 383-0295.
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