Misunderstood Man

Tightlipped, hard-eyed Anthony Cornera Stralla, "admiral" of the Long Beach gambling ship Lux, has lived a life devoted, in a manner of speaking, to public service. He also has great respect for laws, is always trying to keep from breaking them. But for two decades both state and federal officials have been baying after him like bloodhounds, continuously balking his efforts at aiding the masses.

An Italian-born ex-coal-passer, Tony Stralla entered rumrunning in Prohibition days "to keep 120,000,000 people from being poisoned to death." He generously invested a small fortune in a steamship, brought vast supplies of liquor from Vancouver, B.C. to the arid California coast.

Furthermore he seldom resisted arrest unless the cops stole his whiskey. His reward? The Feds got him indicted, arrested, and yanked off to the Federal Penitentiary at McNeil Island like a common criminal.

Outpointed. At liberty in the 1930s, determined Tony bought the gambling ship Rex, operated her off Santa Monica to give Los Angeles citizens a chance for sea air and recreation at their own expense. He carried on his work for five years. But a Los Angeles judge decided that Santa Monica harbor lay between two coastal headlands, ruled that the Rex and three other gambling ships were not outside the three-mile limit. They were seized and Tony all but dropped out of sight.

Last spring, however, his obligation to relieve Los Angeles' citizens of more money became too obvious to be ignored--there wasn't a professional crap game west of Reno. Tony raised money from some "investors," bought a 386-ft. Navy mine layer, the Bunker Hill. He had her towed to Long Beach, painted the name Lux (short for Luxury) on her side, began converting her into a gambling ship.

As usual he complied with all the laws he could find. He carefully incorporated his enterprise under Nevada statutes as the Sevenseas Trading & Steamship Co. In deference to sound sanitation practices he had 150 gleaming new toilets installed aboard the ship. Finally he had the white, neon-decorated floating casino towed 7.8 miles to sea--well past anybody's three-mile limit.

Plungers & Necklines. Triumphantly, last week, he opened for business. Thousands of suckers who had queued up at shoreside water-taxi landings stood shoulder to shoulder all night long on the Lux's casino deck. The ship's bingo corner, its 14 crap tables, 150 slot machines, twelve roulette wheels, five poker games, were busy until dawn. Order was kept by 26 polite, tough "masters-at-arms," i.e., seafaring bouncers. A band played and lush ladies with plunging necklines wandered about selling cigarets. Tony expansively predicted that nobody could touch him.

But two days later deputy sheriffs touched him hard. They arrested the operators of his water taxis. Hundreds of people were marooned all night on the ship, had to lean dismally against the walls because there were few chairs. Stralla, unruffled, gave himself up, stood chewing grapes while being charged with criminal conspiracy. He hoped the judge would restrain his tormentors. But the judge ruled against him.

Tony planned to press the court fight on grounds that his water taxis were engaged in foreign commerce, thus were outside Los Angeles County jurisdiction. But at week's end it looked as if Tony Stralla would never be able to convince an unsympathetic D.A. that he lived and worked only for the community good.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.