Right now, Hollywood is in the midst of the biggest scandal in recent history that does not involve Charlie Sheen and hookers dressed as cheerleaders. It involves a private investigator named Anthony Pellicano, who is currently awaiting trial on charges of racketeering and illegal wiretaps. For whatever reason, the country has not fully embraced this scandal, if only because the details are so exceedingly complex. In order to help everybody understand why this is such a major scandal, I have endeavored to compile a sort-of "Idiot's Guide to the Anthony Pellicano Investigation." Here goes:
Who is Anthony Pellicano?
Anthony Pellicano is a 62-year-old surveillance expert who has been labeled "private investigator to the stars" (rule of thumb: Anytime you want to convince people you are more important than you actually are, simply add the suffix "to the stars" to your job title. Works like a charm). He got his big break in 1972 after Liz Taylor hired him to find out who stole the corpse of her late husband Mike Todd. He was able to trade on his reputation as "the guy who finds Liz Taylor's dead husbands when they go missing" and ended up starting the Pellicano Investigative Agency. His agency was employed by numerous big-time Hollywood lawyers (including Bert Fields, widely recognized as the "lawyer to the stars," which only serves to further my point). Pellicano also earned a reputation as somebody you could turn to if you ever needed a little hired muscle.
Wow! Private investigator to the stars! That sounds like a really great job. He must be living the good life!
Ehh, not so much. In 2002, FBI agents swarmed his Sunset Boulevard office looking for evidence connecting him to threats made against Los Angeles Times reporter Anita Busch. Busch was working on a piece about possible ties between Steven Seagal and the mob. In order to dissuade her from this idea, Pellicano allegedly shot a bullet through her windshield and put a dead fish with a rose in its mouth on her hood, along with a note saying "Stop." While the FBI didn't find any incriminating salmon fillets in his office, they did find enough military-grade C4 to take down a jumbo jet. But wait, that's not the best part — after he served his 30 months for illegally possessing dangerous material, he was arrested again, this time on charges of racketeering and illegal wire-tapping.
Why should I care about this? Because the illegal wiretaps he is accused of performing were allegedly performed at the bequest of Hollywood lawyers and powerbrokers representing various players in L.A. And when this thing goes to trial, we are going to be hearing a.) which celebrities he was indirectly representing and b.) why he was representing them. This has the potential to be embarrassing for a lot of very important people since, if you are to believe press reports, pretty much everybody in southern California who needed any kind of skullduggery performed turned to Pellicano. So basically, a lot of very dirty laundry is going to be made public in the very near future.
What famous people are associated with this guy?
Peripherally, pretty much everybody in Hollywood, which is what makes this thing so dangerous. Anybody who ever hired a lawyer in L.A. could be a target if that lawyer then turned to Pellicano to help gather information. Whether they like it or not, we are probably about to hear some very embarrassing things about the likes of Tom Cruise, Dustin Hoffman, Michael Jackson, Nicole Kidman, John Travolta, Kevin Costner and Brad Grey (the former talent czar who took control of Paramount six weeks ago), all of whom have been peripherally linked to Pellicano, via their lawyers. Others — including Garry Shandling and Keith Carradine — are rumored to be victims of his wiretaps.
Have any famous people been charged with anything?
The only quasi-famous person who has actually been charged and convicted of anything is director John McTiernan ("Die Hard") who pled guilty last week to lying to federal investigators about hiring Pellicano to wiretap Charles Roven, his producer on "Rollerball." Personally, I can't wait for the government to unseal McTiernan's testimony, if only so we can hear his rationale about why it was necessary to risk five years in a federal pen for the sake of "Rollerball."
Who stands to lose the most?
Well, here we're operating under the assumption that McT didn't have much to lose, unless he had a "13th Warrior" sequel in the works that nobody knew about. The one person who is sweating the most is newly minted Paramount president Brad Grey, who has long been an associate of Pellicano's. The New York Times reported back in March that Grey may have hired Pellicano to wiretap phone conversations between screenwriter Bo Zenga and his attorney, Gregory Dovel, and used the information Pellicano obtained to access Zenga's bank accounts. This was just the latest in a string of revelations that suggest Grey may have been listening in on everybody's phone in L.A., with the possible exception of the busboy at The Ivy. These are not the kind of rumors the Paramount board of directors want to hear about the guy they went on a limb to hire just a year ago (he only assumed power on March 1). It's gotten so bad that it now looks like a question not of "if," but "when" Grey will be forced out of his office on the Paramount lot. Prominent British gossip hound Toby Young has suggested that if Grey's implosion plays out to it's logical endpoint, Paramount may turn to Vanity Fair managing editor Graydon Carter to help right the ship, thus continuing Paramount's decades long streak of "Huh?"-inducing moments.
On a scale of 1 to 10, just how creepy is Anthony Pellicano?
A solid 9. Over the years, he certainly has lived up to his moniker, "The Big Sleazy." Alex Constantine, author of "Virtual Government," claims Pellicano has "more mob connections than J. Edgar Hoover." Indeed, Pellicano admits to taking money from the son of mob boss Paul de Lucia. Along with the whole Anita Busch dead-fish-on-the-dashboard incident (which, frankly, to me, seems like overkill: I think she probably would have known to "Stop" when she saw the dead fish and bullet through the windshield), he's boasted about how he keeps a Louisville Slugger in his car and is not above using it.
Case in point: In the early-'90s, Rod Lurie (who would later go on to direct "The Contender" and "The Last Castle") was working on an expose on The National Enquirer for Los Angeles. After receiving threatening phone calls from Pellicano, telling Lurie that his life was going to drastically change, Lurie ended up being the victim of a hit-and-run when he was biking near his house. Even John Connolly, a reporter known for his own aggressive (if effective) tactics conceded that "[Pellicano's] tactics have a real chilling effect" on reporters. Connolly was a subject of these tactics when he was working on a story about Steven Seagal. All in all, the guy is a real prize.
What lessons can the average person glean from this scandal?
Unlike a lot of scandals that come out of Hollywood, this case doesn't have a lot of lessons that apply to the common man. There are no easily arrived at conclusions, like "Don't pick up transvestite hookers" or "Never enter into a sexual relationship with Tom Cruise unless you want your core beliefs totally altered." Really, though, if we've learned anything, it's this: a.) Don't trust a man who built his reputation on finding the dead body of Liz Taylor's ex-husband and b.) If you are a journalist and you feel compelled to write an article about Steven Seagal (I'm looking at you, Nerd Alert), make sure it's a positive one. But you already knew that.
Ray Gustini is a freshman majoring in history and political science. Want to talk scandal with him? Send him an e-mail at [email protected].
