"Hartford, who has an instinct for throwing his millions into noble and picturesque but ruinous undertakings, decided to go into the resort business. He bought most of Hog Island—changed its name to Paradise Island and spent $30 million building a luxury playground there. But then he discovered that the place could not break even without a casino and a bridge across the harbor. No other big investors would consider going in with him unless they heard the click of dice, and he found he could not ferry over nearly enough tourists by motorboat to pay the bills.
As a matter of economic necessity Hartford decided to add a casino. But all efforts to obtain a gambling franchise and a permit to build a bridge failed. He even offered to give 50% of the casino's profits to the Bahamian public. But he made the mistake of retaining the wrong lawyer to plead for his gaming concession and, worse, he had committed the terrible faux pas of contributing some $15,000 to Bay Street's enemy, the P.L.P. As the stalemate stretched on, his troubles in Paradise were costing him $1 million a year by 1964. So Hartford gave up and sold most of his holdings to the quaintly named Mary Carter Paint Company, whose owners wanted to diversify their holdings.
Miraculously, Paradise Island's difficulties began to melt away. Gambling there became possible merely by purchase, for $750,000, of a Certificate of Exemption from the owner of the Bahamian Club, a sedate little gaming room in Nassau. The permit will be transferred to the Paradise Island Casino when it opens at the end of this year. Approval for the bridge was graciously granted by the Bahamian government, which decided that a span across the harbor would not be a hazard to shipping. And the attorney who represented the Mary Carter Paint Company was Sir Stafford Sands.
Of course, some troubles did develop. The paint company had to yield 4/9 of the casino and all of the management of it to Wallace Groves's Bahamas Amusements, Ltd., because, as Sir Stafford explained it, when it came to gambling, the government preferred to deal with just one group. Under the Bahamian Club's present management, Lansky & Co. pull the managerial strings and are slated to/ run the Paradise Island Casino when it opens. They have been cut in for a flat 15% of the gross gambling profits.
If the Paradise Island caper was a bravura performance by Sir Stafford, the Grand Bahama deal was his masterwork. Grand Bahama was the ugliest, least promising of all the habitable islands in the Bahamas. But thanks to the legal legerdemain of Sir Stafford in his capacity as Wallace Groves's attorney, a big chunk of the unsightly place was converted into the swinging community of Freeport, with its big, garish hotels, a casino that looks like an Arabian harem, an olde Englishe pub with deep-chested wenches for waitresses, and International Shopping Bazaar, girlie shows "direct from Las Vegas," gangsters, discothèques, a scuba club, the works—and an atmosphere that melds Miami Beach with Monte Carlo."
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