Alex Karras' NFL Gambling Suspension--Part Three of Three

Late one December night in 1963 just before closing, Johnny Butsicaris was tending bar while Alex Karras was sitting in a booth counting money and doing some bookkeeping. Celebrated Detroit defense lawyer Joseph Louisell came in and ordered a triple shot of bourbon, took off his overcoat and scarf, and sat across from Karras.

Defense lawyer Joseph Louisell

Louisell was a popular customer at the Lindell AC. He was a heavy set, jovial man who was well-read and an avid sports fan. Louisell was known for winning some of Detroit's most notorious cases. He earned respect for bringing acquittals or reduced sentences for many local crime figures. He lived in the same Grosse Pointe Park neighborhood with many of Detroit's top-ranking mob figures. Their kids even went to school together.

"I want to talk with you about your suspension, Alex. The NFL meets in Miami next month. Have you made any plans regarding your reinstatement?"

"No, Rozelle wants me to drop my interest in the bar and I can't afford to do that."

"I've thoroughly checked out your bar activities.... You're as clean as snow."

"Tell that to Rozelle!"

"Give me the okay and I'll represent you."

"I can't afford you, Joe."

Over 65% of Joseph Louisell's law practice was devoted to civil and corporate law. That's how he and partner Ivan Baris made their money, but that bored Louisell. Joe would take some cases pro bono (free) if they interested him. Winning several high-profile defense cases helped build his reputation. Louisell was a diehard Lions fan, as were other interested parties who wanted to see Karras back in a Lions uniform, but they preferred to remain anonymous not wanting to prejudice the case against him.

"I'll take your case pro bono. I want to see you back on the gridiron, Alex. Here's my argument."

Louisell cited a provision in Michigan liquor licensing that states if your name appears on a Michigan liquor license, you can't sell your business for one year--by law. That includes taverns and liquor stores.

"What does that mean for me?"

"Were you to sell your interest in the bar business, you can 't get another liquor license for three years. We can sue them for lost wages if they force you to sell your stake in the Lindell, and they don't reinstate you."

Louisell told Alex to quit working at the bar, return to his family in Clinton, Iowa, maintain a low profile, and most of all, do not speak with the press. "Wait for my phone call," Louisell emphasized. In late January, Louisell made sure Karras' formal reinstatement appeal was on Commissioner Pete Rozelle's desk.

NFL Commissioner Pete Rozelle

In early March, Louisell and Karras went to meet with Commissioner Rozelle at his New York offices. After waiting for almost an hour in a reception room, the two men were led into the commissioner's office where Rozelle on the phone ignored them for some minutes. With Karras about to storm out of the office in frustration, Louisell calmed him down and told Rozelle to get off the phone, "This man's life is important."

Cutting short his phone call, Rozelle said, "Okay, Mr. Louisell, I'm listening."

Louisell explained that gambling is as intrinsic to professional football as the two-pointed pigskin, and Rozelle knew it. NFL football gambling existed on every level of American society and occurred weekly in office and factory pools, in Las Vegas sports betting parlors, and with private wagers made by John Q. Public--most of it innocent enough.

"You've unjustly punished Alex Karras for a year. My advice to you is make a decision within a week. If it's negative, I will tear the NFL apart." Louisell and Karras rose promptly from their seats and left the commissioner to think it over.

Rozelle knew any bad publicity with a headline-hungry press was not good for the league. He also knew that Louisell was not some ambulance-chasing shyster. His client list included many of Detroit's most notorious power-players including Jimmy Hoffa and the Giacoloni brothers. The last thing the NFL wanted was a media circus broadcast nationwide.

On March 16, 1964, both Green Bay Packer Paul Horning and Detroit Lion Alex Karras were reinstated. The NFL issued a statement saying both men bet on football games but never against their own teams, and there was no evidence either man performed less than his best in any football game.

"After personal discussions with each man, the commissioner is satisified that they have a clear understanding of the seriousness of their offenses," said an NFL spokesman. Nothing was mentioned about Karras' co-ownership of the Lindell AC sports bar.

***

In a 1969 interview with Sport magazine writer Lou Proto, Karras was led into the subject of his 1963 suspension. "It is my understanding," said Proto, "that you had to sell your interest in the Lindell AC when ordered by Pete Rozelle."

"I kept it for five more years."

"How did you manage that?"

"It was a verbal thing. If Rozelle would have claimed something illegal was going on at the Lindell, he would have been slapped with a lawsuit."

"Then, you were lying when you told Rozelle in 1964 that you sold your interests in the bar?"

"Lying to whom? The guy who was trying to screw me?"

Karras was outspoken but not altogether candid in the interview. He didn't care; he knew the end of his football career was near, and he had already shifted his career trajectory into show business by signing a contract with Hannah-Barbera Productions--already appearing in the TV series Daniel Boone with Fess Parker and a western named The Hard Case with Clint Walker.

William Clay Ford

Recently, Mel Butsicaris revealed to me what really happened. His father Johnny went to see Lions owner William (Bill) Clay Ford. He told Bill Ford if he ever wanted to see Karras in a Lions' uniform again, he needed to lend him and his brother Jimmy the money to buy out Karras' share of the Lindell. They put up their sports bar as security, cut a deal, and Ford had his lawyers write up the promissory note. It took the Butsicaris brothers five years to pay off the loan.

"My dad paid the last installment to Bill Ford personally and took the promisory note, twisted it up, and set one end on fire to light his cigar."

Although I can appreciate the symbolic gesture, the researcher in me regrets that this piece of documentation when up in smoke.

More background on Joseph Louisell

Karras NFL Suspension--Part One 

Karras NFL Suspension--Part Two

Alex Karras' NFL Gambling Suspension--Part One of Three

Detroit Lion tackle Alex Karras

The trouble started in 1961 when reports of Detroit Lion Alex Karras' gambling on professional sports and associating with underworld figures reached the desks of Lions owner William (Bill) Clay Ford and NFL commissioner Pete Rozelle. Detroit police commissioner George Edwards and the local FBI had Karras under surveillance for a year because of his association with Jimmy and Johnny Butsicaris and his co-ownership of the popular Lindell AC (Atheletic Club) sports bar.

Alex Karras met the Butsicaris brothers soon after he arrived in Detroit to play for the Lions. The bar was known for its legendary hamburgers and walls festooned with sports memorabilia. It became a hangout for sports writers, sports fans of every stripe, and shady characters who enjoyed rubbing elbows with local team players like everyone else did.

Some of these characters happened to be professional gamblers. Karras liked the place because the owners were Greek and their place reminded him of his hometown Gary, Indiana. The Lindell AC was his refuge where he could relax and relate to people.

Johnny and Jimmy Butsicaris

 
Karras became a regular customer and was befriended by the brothers. When their bar opened in 1949, Meleti Butsicaris and his sons each owned one-third of the business. After their father died, the brothers asked Karras if he would like to buy their father's share, so they could move the bar to a better location down Michigan Avenue and renovate an available property. For a $45,000 buy-in, Karras became a partner.

To compound gambling suspicions against Karras, his favorite restaurant in Detroit was The Grecian Gardens in Greektown. Gus Colacasides was the owner and basically the patriarch of all local Greeks in Detroit. Karras liked the authentic Greek food and the atmosphere and went there weekly. I can personally vouch for the quality of their food.

The restaurant's late night clientele included gamblers, bookies, and ranking underworld figures. Some pretty tough customers would see Karras and come up and shake his hand and strike up a sports conversation. At the heart of it, they were sports fans and Karras was a Lion celebrity. Soon, he felt like one of the boys.

All the while, Karras was under police surveillance everywhere he went. In 1962, the general manager of the Lions Andy Anderson summoned Karras into his office and cautioned him about being in the bar business with the Butsicaris brothers. "They're gangsters and hoodlums--stay away from them."

"The Hell I will!"

"If you stay in the bar business with them, the Lions will take steps."

"Tell Bill Ford that I need the work because I can't raise my family on the lousy $12,000 a season he pays me."

For the first few years of his NFL career, Karras wrestled "professionally" in the off-season as part of a masked tag team attraction to make financial ends meet. Now that he had a growing family, he was tired of travelling every weekend throughout the Midwest.

Karras had known Jimmy and Johnny Butsicaris for two years and knew they were not connected to organized crime. They were hard-working saloon owners, and these alleged "gangsters" were their customers. It was free enterprise and that wasn't a crime.

But then there was the issue of Karras and a fellow teammate John Gordy riding home after an exhibition game against the Cleveland Browns on a "party bus" owned by Vito Giacalone, but it was registered to Odus Tincher--a retired DSR bus driver, known gambler, and former convict. The Giacalone brothers were also known gamblers and underworld crime figures connected with the Detroit Partnership (Mafia). The Detroit Police and the FBI wondered why the party bus was often parked in back of the Lindell AC when not in service.

End of Part One

Karras Gambling Suspension Part Two 

Alex Karras’ Made-In-Detroit Movie—Jimmy B. and Andre (1979)

Alex Karras proves there is life after professional football.

When Alex Karras retired from the Detroit Lions in 1970, he left town for the bright lights of Hollywood. Alex first caught the acting bug as a senior at Emerson High School in Gary, Indiana when he performed in South Pacific. When he played college football at the University of Iowa, Karras wrestled professionally as villain George Brown donning a full mask and earning $50 a match. He relished playing the bad guy and acting crazy. It beat working in the steel mills.

After Karras was drafted by the Detroit Lions, he supplemented his ridiculously low NFL salary by wrestling in the off-season to help pay the bills for his growing family. He formed a tag team called Killer Karras and Krusher Konovski that performed to boos and sneers while winning all of their matches in the Midwest. While still a Detroit Lion, Karras played himself in the Hollywood film, Paper Lion. He garnered good reviews that led him to pursue an acting career.

Karras with Susan Clark in BABE.

Karras cut his teeth on several minor roles before he landed a co-star role in The Babe Didrikson Zaharias Story with actress Susan Clark, who won a best-actress Emmy for her excellent performance. They began performing regularly together and eventually married. In 1979, they jointly formed a Hollywood production company named Georgian Bay Productions.

Their first full length movie project was Jimmy B. and Andre which debuted on CBS on March 19, 1980. It was based on the true story of Jimmy Butsicaris, co-owner with his brother Johnny of the popular Lindell AC (Athletic Club) sports bar. The Lindell AC was frequented by Detroit Lion and Tiger athletes, sports writers, and sports fans from every level of Detroit society. Alex wanted to make a made-for-TV movie about his friend Jimmy B. trying to adopt a nine-year-old, African-American street kid named Andre Reynolds.

Andre was an elementary school dropout who shined shoes at Jim’s barber shop next door to the Lindel AC to pick up some extra money. But an older, local bully named Billy began harassing Andre for his hard-earned cash. Jimmy Butsicaris rescued the ragged, nine-year-old Andre from a beating one afternoon, finding him in desperate need of a bath, a meal, and some guidance. Over a cheese burger, fries, and a Coke, Jimmy learned the boy’s story. Andre’s mother was a widow who was also a heroin addict in poor health. Much of the money Andre turned over to her ended up in her arm. There was also an older sister and brother in the household.

Jimmy took the kid under his wing and gave him work doing odd jobs and a place to stay in the basement storeroom of the bar. Johnny Butsicaris converted a photo darkroom into a safe place for Andre to stay. He lived there for nine years. After the death of Andre’s mother from an overdose, Jimmy tried to adopt Andre but ran into trouble with the boy’s aunt who wanted him and his siblings as dependents to earn extra welfare money.

Detroit Free Press - March 20, 1980.

Undeterred by the court’s decision to deny him guardianship, Jimmy became Andre’s foster father and treated him like a son. As Andre grew into manhood, he called Jimmy “Pop.” To show his appreciation, Andre had a shirt made that read “I Am a Black Greek.” Jimmy took Andre to Detroit Lion and Tiger games and introduced him everywhere as his son. Jimmy helped Andre get back in public school where he earned a high school diploma from Western High School when he was twenty years old.

In the meantime, Karras and Clark pitched their story idea to CBS and sold them on it. Karras portrayed his friend Jimmy Butsicaris as a gruff restaurant owner with a big heart, and Susan Clark played his long-suffering girlfriend Stevie. In the movie, Jimmy keeps finding reasons not to marry her. Karras’ son, Alex Karras Jr, played a cameo role as the bully who beats up the young Andre, the real Andre played a restaurant employee called Bubba, and local Detroit weatherman Sonny Eliot played a drunk in the movie.

The movie project was shot entirely in Detroit at the Lindell AC, Jim’s Barber Shop next door, the Greektown restaurant district downtown, Belle Isle Park, and the Renaissance Center. The film was notable because of the heart-rending performance of twelve-year-old Curtis Yates, a student at Country Day School in Birmingham, Michigan. The real Andre Reynolds said he cried every time he saw the movie about his life and his foster father Jimmy Butsicaris.

Johnny Butsicaris in front of the Lindell AC sports bar.

After Andre’s high school graduation, Jimmy urged him to attend Grand Rapids Community College where he played football for one semester, but at 5’ 9” and 185#, Andre wasn’t big enough for college ball, so he dropped out. When Andre returned to Detroit, he left the influence of his mentor and drifted into Detroit’s drug culture. When he was busted for possession and drug trafficking, Andre served his sentence in Marquette Branch Prison.

In a prison cell at Marquette Branch Prison in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula on November 21, 1996, thirty-six-year-old Andre learned that his foster father and mentor Jimmy Butsicaris had died the evening before at the age of seventy-five from a massive heart attack. Reynolds wasn’t eligible for parole, so he couldn’t attend the funeral, but he agreed to be interviewed by Detroit News reporter Thomas BeVier.

Andre Reynolds at Lindell AC in 1979.

“(Jimmy) Butsicaris took me in when I was a nine-year-old, punk kid living in a drug infested environment. I had a few moments of fame when the movie Jimmy B. and Andre came out. I was nineteen and wanted to be an adult, but I didn’t know how to do that. I was paid $15,000 for my story, and I used it to buy two cars and go to Grand Rapids Community College. But along the way, I fell in with a rough crowd and was in and out of trouble most of my twenties. I’m ashamed of the life I’ve lived.”

Andre served his sentence and was released. A few days before Thanksgiving in 2000, Andre Reynolds was brutally attacked by an unknown person or persons who beat and stomped him mercilessly. Detroit Police posited that Andre ran afoul of a local drug gang, but no charges were ever brought in his murder. He spent his final days in a coma at Detroit’s Receiving Hospital before succumbing. His body was unidentified in the Wayne County Morgue for four days before he was buried. What seemed on screen like a promising future for Andre became a nightmare in real life.

 

Access Jimmy B. and Andre by name on YouTube!

Billy Martin's fight night at the Lindell AC