THE GOLDEN ADVENTURER

      Lucky Luciano was in the interview room at Sing-Sing Prison in 1941 when Meyer Lansky, of Miami, came to see him about the possibility of getting hotels with casinos into the Bahamas.

      “The Bahamas are a natural,” said Lansky.  “Nassau is only a hundred and eighty miles from Florida.  It’s better than Cuba, because it’s not really foreign.  Everybody speaks English.  It is part of the British Empire so you’ve got law and order.  It has a great climate.  The ocean is warm and good for swimming.  There are good beaches, everything.  And we have good contacts there, people we dealt with during Prohibition.  Maybe they would like to do business with us again.”

      “What do you have in mind for Nassau?” asked Lucky.

      “One hotel for a start.  One with a casino.  You see, Pan Am has flights from Miami regularly.  Nassau is one hour away.  After the war, things will explode.  More airlines as well as cruise ships.  There is a fellow there by the name of Harold Christie. We made some liquor deals with him during Prohibition.  He plans to turn the Bahamas into a port of paradise for rich tourists.  We could fly in whole plane-loads of suckers for weekend gambling - put them up in our hotels so they can lose money in our casinos.  Then we fly them home - or ship them back - and take down the next bunch.”

      “So, what’s holding you back?” asked Lucky.

      “Nothing,” said Lansky, who glanced at his Rolex watch.  “Our man should be landing in Nassau around now.”

      The most important thoroughfare in Nassau was called Bay Street.  It stretched form the British Colonial Hotel in the west to the Yacht Club in the east, and along Bay Street there were shops and bars on each side; all close together.  Walkers and shoppers and tourists were all shielded from the sun or rain by tiled canopies which were supported by pillars originally used in hitching posts for horses, giving the quaint street a wild west look.  But no horses now, instead one saw black Bahamian chauffeurs, in starched, white duck uniforms, waiting patiently at the wheels of Buicks and Chryslers as their rich employers shopped and gossiped.

      Many offices of registered companies, their names in gold letters painted on black doors.  In fact, everyone who was anybody in Nassau’s business or professional life — merchants, agents