While Philip P. Hannifin’s name may not be familiar to those who’ve entered gaming in the last 20 years, he was a giant who helped create and shape the state’s premier industry.
Hannifin, 88, lost his battle with lung cancer Jan. 8.
“Phil Hannifin paved the way for Nevada’s present regulatory model as an exemplar of the ‘tough but fair regulator,” said Michael Rumbolz, a former Nevada gaming regulator and Everi CEO. “His transition to an industry leadership role was an inspiration to many and proved that you could regulate with integrity and, when later working in the industry, continue to help licensed operators understand their compliance obligations.”
Most gaming regulators today are held in high esteem for their strict enforcement and laser focus on protecting the integrity and legality of casino operations. But before Hannifin’s appointment as chairman of the Nevada Gaming Control Board, the panel often was seen as more of a political body than an arm of law enforcement.
In 1971, when newly elected Nevada Gov. Mike O’Callaghan made it his mission to change things, he chose the 36-year-old Hannifin to do the job. It was the right choice, at the right time.
Gaming was in Hannifin’s blood. His father was an operator in Montana, where Phil was born in Butte in October 1934. “Growing up, it took me a while to realize that a slot machine was more than a toy,” he once said. Hannifin moved to Nevada in 1940, graduated from Reno’s Bishop Manogue High School, and then earned a degree in psychology from the University of Nevada in 1957.
At 23, he joined the Washoe County probation department. He eventually ran Wittenberg Hall, Reno’s juvenile detention center. After several promotions, he was named the director of the Nevada Parole and Probation department. In his four years there, he developed strong investigative skills and knew his way around the law—and lawbreakers. Those were perfect credentials to carry out O’Callaghan’s mandate of stronger gaming oversight.
When I was a news reporter covering him, it was nearly impossible to get Hannifin to talk about anything. It wasn’t just me he shut out; he rarely talked to any reporter. Unlike flamboyant casino bosses, Hannifin preferred to stay out of the limelight and the headlines. But when I worked with him at the Fitzgeralds Group, where he was a board member, things changed.
Some of my best memories in gaming are of sharing dinners and wine with him. I discovered that far from being shy, he was a world-class storyteller. In the last few years, it has been hard for me to realize that he was in his late 80s. While he physically moved a bit slower; his commanding voice and hearty laughter were as strong as ever.
Many of his stories would have made great episodes of Law & Order or new scenes for Goodfellas. I one asked him about the movie Casino. Was that really the way it was? I was surprised to hear him say that director Marin Scorsese got most things right. Of course, the Tangiers Casino was the real-life Stardust, and “Ace” Rothstein (Robert De Niro) was based on Frank “Lefty” Rosenthal.
He once told us the tale of trying to catch the mob “skimming” in the Stardust count room, as shown in the movie. His team of enforcement agents made several raids, but whenever they arrived, everything looked kosher. Suspecting the mobsters were tipped off by someone in his office, Hannifin ordered all of his agents onto a chartered bus. They eventually pulled into the Stardust parking lot and marched straight into the count room. Jackpot! They found ample evidence of illegal skimming.
Many credit Hannifin as a driving force in getting organized crime out of Las Vegas. A key piece of that eviction was when the mob sold out to (or fleeced) Howard Hughes in 1967, when Paul Laxalt was the state’s governor. Inexplicably, Hughes was granted a license to operate the Desert Inn, Frontier, Sands, Castaways, Landmark and Silver Slipper casinos without ever appearing before the Gaming Commission, and with virtually no investigation by the board.
Demanding a meeting with Howard Hughes
When Hughes left the state in the middle of the night via a fire escape on Thanksgiving Day 1970, O’Callaghan and Hannifin saw an opportunity to correct the record. They demanded a face-to-face meeting with Hughes. Before that, Hannifin was fond of saying that communicating with Hughes was like “yelling into a big barrel. All I ever hear is my own voice.”
The recluse “didn’t look anything like the crazy madman (shown in The Aviator movie). However, they told me his team had cleaned him up quite a bit prior to our meeting,” Hannifin said. “Clearly, we could see some of the injuries he’d suffered from his airplane crashes, but he was dressed in a nice suit, very business-like, and seemed in complete control. He got angry a few times, but we left convinced that he knew what he was doing and was still in complete charge.”
The board approved his licenses and completed investigations of his new executive team. Licensing Hughes helped to legitimize Nevada gaming. Hughes had the Haskins and Sells accounting firm come to Nevada to audit his casinos. Many of the CPAs who relocated to the state as a result of Hughes’ mandate went on to run numerous Nevada casinos.
Phil Griffith was one of those auditors originally brought in by Summa Corporation, Hughes’ company, in the early 1970s. Later, after running Harold’s Club, Griffith founded the Fitzgeralds Group, based in Reno.
“Phil Hannifin always acted with honesty and integrity,” Griffith said. “While that is not particularly unique today, it was an era of great temptation. Phil stood head and shoulders above everyone else then in his principled leadership.”
Becoming an executive
He could have retired a monumental figure in gaming just based on his regulatory resume, but Hannifin was headed for even more accolades. In 1977, the year after Hughes’ death, he became a director and executive vice president of Summa, serving from 1977 to 1984. He managed the seven casinos and five hotels of the Hughes estate.
In 1984, Hannifin became president of Harrah’s West (the forerunner of today’s Caesars Entertainment). Phil Satre, the current non-executive chairman of the board of Wynn Resorts, was also at Harrah’s.
“I had the great good fortune to work alongside Phil Hannifin,” Satre said. “His leadership style was collaborative, direct and pragmatic—and he had a natural ability to create consensus and impart his considerable wisdom. Along with many others in the gaming industry, I learned a lot from him.”
Satre is a member of the American Gaming Association’s Gaming Hall of Fame. He helped sponsor Hannifin’s induction as part of the Class of 2018. Another HOF inductee, Kirk Kerkorian, also benefitted from Hannifin’s wisdom. Kerkorian purchased the Sands and the Desert Inn from Summa and immediately appointed Hannifin as executive vice president to run those operations in October 1987. Hannifin worked closely with Kerkorian to purchase the Marina Casino Hotel at the south end of the Las Vegas Strip and eventually build the gigantic 6,852-room MGM Grand Las Vegas. The original 700-room Marina is still there, assimilated by the resort and known today as the “west wing.”
After some time with the Rivera in Las Vegas, Hannifin’s final executive role before retiring in 2000 was as a board member with the Fitzgeralds Group. He helped the operation grow from a single casino-hotel to a nationwide group with multiple properties in Nevada and casinos in New York, Mississippi, Illinois, Arizona and Colorado.
“You can’t overstate the effect that Phil Hannifin has had on the gaming industry,” said Patricia Becker, the first woman to serve on the Control Board. “Most importantly, he was a truly wonderful person who cared deeply for his family, and the people who worked for him, maintaining those friendships for decades. I was lucky enough to be one of those people. We have lost a gaming legend and a Nevada treasure.”
Hannifin was proceeded in death by his wife, Doris “Dori” Belli, in 1998. For many years, the couple lived on the Belli Ranch just west of Reno. They had been married for 41 years. He spent his last few days in the company of his daughter, Mari, and son, Bret.
Nothing summarizes Hannifin more than the advice he once gave me when I was concerned about making a difficult management decision. “Listen, Bud,” he said. “Stop worrying about it and just do the right thing.”
He always did it right. RIP, Phil. We’ll all miss you.
Buddy Frank is a retired Reno journalist and casino executive.