Poconos casino owner charged

HARRISBURG - From the mob in Scranton, he got suits, a ring, and a little bit of help with his auto-parts business.

And from political hustlers in Philly, an affidavit alleges, he got a prime parking spot for his daughter - and the promise of a little bit of help with his landfill business.

These matters might have been unread footnotes in the life of Louis A. DeNaples had he not applied for a casino license in Pennsylvania.

But in a criminal affidavit filed yesterday, prosecutors say DeNaples, in pursuit of that license, lied about his relationships to organized-crime bosses in northeastern Pennsylvania and to two central figures in the federal corruption probe of Philadelphia City Hall.

As a result, the 67-year-old Scranton millionaire could face years in prison, millions of dollars in fines, and the loss of one of his prized businesses: the Mount Airy Casino Resort.

DeNaples was charged yesterday with four counts of perjury on allegations that he misled Pennsylvania Gaming Control Board investigators about ties to mob and other crime figures that could have kept him from winning the coveted casino license.

Hours after the charges were announced, regulators swiftly moved to suspend DeNaples' license, allowing the casino to keep operating but ruling that for now, he cannot profit from the slot machines or even enter the Poconos resort. He is the sole owner of the casino.

"Perjury is a serious offense," Dauphin County District Attorney Ed Marsico said at a news conference in Harrisburg. "When an individual violates the oath to tell the truth, consequences follow."

Marsico filed the charges on recommendations from a grand jury that had met off and on for months.

Richard Sprague, DeNaples' attorney, called the charges "an outrageous attempt" by prosecutors to pursue a political agenda to embarrass the gaming board.

"Louis DeNaples is a good and decent man, and these charges amount to nothing more than a shameful witch-hunt by the prosecutor," Sprague said in a statement.

The grand jury laid out a detailed and, in some instances, apparently embarrassing case against DeNaples.

It hinges on testimony that the politically connected businessman, who owns more than 100 companies, gave in closed-door sessions with gaming board officials on Aug. 16 and Sept. 28, 2006.

During those sessions, he was pressed about his relationships with the late mob boss Russell Bufalino; Bufalino's protege, William D'Elia; the late Ron White, a chief fund-raiser for former Mayor John Street; and Shamsud-din Ali, the West Philadelphia imam who is serving time in connection with the City Hall corruption investigation.

When asked about Ali, DeNaples said that he did not know him, but that it was possible he had a "very, very short conversation" with Ali and "another black person" about bringing sludge from Philadelphia to landfills he owns in the Scranton region.

Shown a picture of Ali, DeNaples said he could not identify him because "to me, black people all look alike."

But prosecutors allege that DeNaples not only had met with Ali - who later testified before the grand jury - but also had extensive phone conversations with him.

Ali, court papers allege, helped arrange for DeNaples' daughter to get a prime parking spot at Temple University. The two also discussed the prospect of DeNaples' landfill accepting debris from demolished houses in Philadelphia.

Likewise, DeNaples told the gaming board that he did not know White and did not do business with him. However, prosecutors allege that in 1999, DeNaples met with White and Street, then a candidate for mayor.

Court papers do not specify what the meeting was about, but they do say DeNaples gave $50,000 to White and later complained that he could not get White or Street to return a phone call.

DeNaples, according to the affidavit, also lied about his ties to the two top organized-crime figures in northeastern Pennsylvania.

He said he knew D'Elia as a customer of his auto-parts supply store and the bank he founded, but denied regularly meeting with him.

Prosecutors maintain that DeNaples and D'Elia were so close that years ago D'Elia visited DeNaples' father as he lay dying. Once his father died, DeNaples gave his father's rosary beads to D'Elia, the affidavit says.

It also said D'Elia frequently met with DeNaples at the auto-parts store, and arranged for the free printing of store brochures.

D'Elia, who is under indictment on charges of conspiracy to launder money among other offenses, testified before the grand jury.

DeNaples also was close to Bufalino, prosecutors allege in the 23-page affidavit.

When DeNaples' house burned down in the 1970s, Bufalino personally delivered three suits to DeNaples so he could wear them at meetings, the court papers said.

The papers also said that in the 1970s, DeNaples complimented Bufalino at a boxing match about a ring he was wearing, and Bufalino later gave it to him as a gift.

When asked about Bufalino, DeNaples told gaming board officials that he knew him only by name and what was printed about him in newspapers.

Question: "What kind of things did you hear?"

Answer: ". . . Organized crime or mafia. I don't know what that is, to tell you the truth."

Marsico said yesterday that prosecutors believed the questions that gaming regulators asked DeNaples in 2006 were "clear, and that there could be no misunderstanding."

Although DeNaples has been the focus of the grand jury, he is not the first to be charged.

The Rev. Joseph F. Sica of Scranton, a Roman Catholic priest and longtime DeNaples friend, also was charged with perjury this month on allegations he lied about his own ties to organized-crime figures.

In Harrisburg, the DeNaples charges were viewed as a blow to Gov. Rendell - the architect of casino gambling in Pennsylvania - and the gaming board, which conducted what some viewed as a botched background investigation into the Mount Airy application.

The board's investigations on casino applicants have been a major source of controversy.

The state police bitterly complained that they should have been given the job of probing applicants. Instead, the board relied primarily on its civilian investigators.

Thomas "Tad" A. Decker, who chaired the board when it awarded a license to DeNaples, said the board's investigators did the best job they could, but lacked a grand jury's power to compel testimony.

For court documents in the case and previous coverage: http://go.philly.com/denaples EndText