Originally posted by olivant:
Turnbull was probably a Geary aide and that's who Tom had been dealing with.
I always inferred that Turnbull was a lawyer or lobbyist who served as Geary’s “bagman”—someone who intermediates between Geary and the people who need to bribe him to get political favors. Bagmen are import features of US political life: they launder money and legitimize bribes. Here’s how the Turnbull/Geary connection might work in real life:
Let’s say you want to open a new casino in Nevada, or buy into one. You’ll need a gaming license in either case. But when you see the Gaming Commissioner, he’s very negative. He says that since you’re new to the state and to the gaming industry, you’ll have to fill out a zillion-page application, and undergo an exhaustive background check—a “daunting” process that could take years. And there’s no guarantee that you’ll get your license at the end of it. But, he brightens up, “if a prominent and respected citizen of this state were to vouch for you, things could go a lot quicker.” Who might that person be, you ask. “Senator Geary,” replies the Commish. “Everyone respects him.”
Now you see Geary, who puts on his best “aw shucks”/country boy act. “Mah friend the Gamin’ Commissioner flatters me,” he says. But he agrees that getting a license can be “daunting.” What you need, he says, is a first-class lawyer to help you. Who might that lawyer be? “Turnbull,” says Geary. “He’s the best darn gamin’ lawyer in the whole darn state of Nevada. Why, Ah have so much confidence in Turnbull that, if he takes you on as a client, Ah’ll be glad to write to the Commish to vouch for ya.” You offer to pay Geary, but he recoils, horrified: “Shucks, son, Ah cain’t accept that. This is just a little favor Ah do for mah constituents.”
You're getting the picture, so you see Turnbull. He, too, says the process of getting a license is “daunting.” But he’ll take you on as a client. His fee: $250,000. You swoon. But Turnbull says, “I take on very few clients—but every one of them has gotten a license.” You gulp—and you pay.
Now, Turnbull’s a lawyer, and he does things legally. He deposits your $250k in his law firm’s checking account. He draws a check for $100k payable to “The Committee to Re-Elect Senator Pat Geary.” He draws another check for $100k payable to a certain private investigator in Carson City. Hanging over the investigator's desk is a framed certificate from the Gaming Commission that attests that he’s “Certified by the Nevada Gaming Commission to Conduct Background Checks on License Applicants.” Oh, and by the way: the Commissioner’s wife is the investigator's first cousin. Turnbull keeps the remaining $50k for himself.
As if by magic, things begin to happen for you in a hurry. A letter from Geary arrives in the Commish’s in-box. Geary writes that he knows you intimately (though not in the biblical sense
) and believes that you are “of peerless moral character.” He’s certain—yes, certain—that you’ll be the best thing to happen to the gaming industry since the invention of the slot machine. Right on its heels arrives the zillion-page application, filled out by Turnbull. The Commish reads it immediately and is greatly impressed with its absolute perfection. The next day, the investigator’s report arrives. The investigator has found that you are a living saint: you were a choir boy, an alter boy, a National Merit Scholar, a four-letter man in high school and college, a Jaycee, a Toastmaster, a Knight of Malta, a daily Communicant. You were on your way to India to join Mother Teresa to assist her in alleviating hunger and suffering among the poor, but Mother herself convinced you that you’d be of greater serviced to humanity by running a Nevada casino.
Well, in the face of such overwhelming evidence of your sterling character, the Commish is happy to grant your license.
You might ask: why deal with Turnbull? Why not just pay off Geary and the Commish directly? Why, that’d be bribery! That’s illegal! Horrors! What you did was to pay Turnbull a retainer for his legal services. Turnbull made a perfectly legal contribution to Geary’s re-election campaign. The money he paid the investigator was a fee for the investigator’s services. By the way: the investigator is a strong family man. He loves his cousin, the Commish’s wife, so much that he lets her and her husband use his $5 million vacation home in Lake Tahoe year-round. And just last month, he bought his beloved cousin and her husband a new Bentley Continental for their anniversary.
Get the idea?