always looking over my shoulder,
hassled by cops, day and night.

But here, I'm Mr. Rothstein.
I'm not only legitimate,
but running a casino.

And that's like selling people
dreams for cash.

I hired an old casino pal, Billy Sherbert,
as my manager, and went to work.

And this is Ronnie,
who takes care of the card room.

SAM: For guys like me,
Las Vegas washes away your sins.

It's like a morality car wash.
It does for us what Lourdes does
for humpbacks and cripples.

[Upbeat jazz music intensifies]
SAM: And along with making us legit...
comes cash, tons of it.
What do you think we're doing
here in the middle of the desert?

It's all this money.
This is the end result
of all the bright lights...

and the comped trips,
of all the champagne...

and free hotel suites,
and all the broads and all the booze.

It's all been arranged
just for us to get your money.

That's the truth about Las Vegas.
We're the only winners.
The players don't stand a chance.
And their cash flows from the tables...
to our boxes through the cage...
and into the most sacred room
in the casino.

The place where they add up all the money...
the Holy of holies, the count room.
Now, this place was off-limits.
Even I couldn't get inside.
But it was my job to keep it filled
with cash. That's for sure.

NlCKY: They had so much money in there...
you could build a house out
of stacks of $100 bills.

And the best part was that upstairs...
the Board of Directors didn't know
what the fuck was going on.

To them everything looked
on the up-and-up.

Right? Wrong.
Verify $5,000.
NlCKY: The guys in the counting room...
were all slipped in there
to skim the joint dry.

They'd do short counts,
they'd lose fill slips.

They'd even take cash
right out of the drop-boxes.