The Tennessean from Nashville, Tennessee • Page 19

THE TENNESSEAN, Glick Is 'King of the Strip' (Cont'd from 1-B) bling license from Nevada authorities. Click also owns the Stardust and Fremont hotel-casinos and runs the new Marina Casino in Las Vegas. Despite published reports of alleged links to organized crime, Click has denied any part in illegal activities, but has admitted some business mistakes. The Nevada state 'Gaming Commission recently fined Click and three of his Las Vegas casinos a total of $77,000 for his acceptance of a $500,000 loan from two Fresno, brothers in violation of state gaming laws, but has found no evidence to dispute his word that he has not deliberately broken rules or laws. company here, Click purchased the undeveloped land on Brick Church Pike from Parthenon, Inc.

Roy Conway Flowers president and sole stockholder of Parthenon had paid $500,000 for the land 11 months before Click bought it for $739,000. NEELY WAS AN officer of both the bank and the mortgage company at the time and was also a director of Parthenon during both transactions. But Neely said Flowers made all the profits on the i transaction and he did not make any fee as a Parthenon director. Neely, who had been with the bank for 29 years at the time of his resignation, also said loans made to Click companies were approved by a and a combat aerial observer in Vietnam. After his discharge late in 1969, he settled in San Diego and went to work as an $800-a-month salesman for the American Housing Guild, a company specializing in residential real estate development.

He was earning $1,800 a month when he left the company in January 1971. GLICK LEFT AMERICAN Housing to go with Saratoga Development Corp. at $2,000 a month. A year later, its owner, Dennis Wittman, gave him half of Saratoga's stock, for which Glick said he gave Wittman "$2,000 or $2,500." Glick estimated the stock to be worth "in excess of a couple of million dollars." Wittman's administrative assistant at the time said Wittman gave Glick the half- interest just because "he liked him." For whatever reason, it was the beginning of Click's meteoric rise. He began to branch out on his own, forming partnerships in real estate dealings.

His partners included Tamara Rand (later murdered), a San Diego businesswoman, and such sports figures as John Hadl, then quarterback for the San Diego Chargers, and Steve DeLong, another Charger player who had starred at the University of Tennessee. CLICK'S LAS VEGAS investments began early in 1973, when he brought the Hacienda in partnership with Eugene 'Scoop' Jackson 3-B of a legal nature. The minority stockholders in Recrion filed suit against him and the Teamsters fund, among others, charging that the defendants conspired to defraud them out of some $35 million by issuing subordinated debentures in December 1973, before Glick bought up all the stock. Then there was the Gaming Commission probe, resulting in the $77,000 fine, $25,000 of it against Glick personally. IN ADDITION TO the legal problems, there were economic problems.

The Argent Corp. reported a loss of $7A million during the fiscal year ending last Aug. 31, despite gross revenues oi more man 9 iuu minion. And a report to the Securities and Exchange Commis-: sion for the first six months of fiscal 1976 September through March showed a $4 million loss. Argent reported to the Securities and Exchange Com-1 mission mat irst American had refused its $8 million letter of credit to the Marina Casino, which Argent had used to secure its lease on the casino.

(It also reported spending $5.6 million on free rooms, food and beverages supplied to gambling customers and another $5 million on such tuici laifiiucui as ijj lie, hillprf as Amprira nnlv all- nude ice show, to lure custom -ers to the Hacienda.) As Glick says, there may be little comparison between him and the legendary Hughes. But if he lacks Hughes' mystery and Hughes' billions, at least in his own league Glick has made a stab at being quite a wheeler and dealer. "It was beautiful," Smith recalls. "Carter was standing there in the snow on the sub, looking like one of the Kennedys, a flag waving in the background." But the Carter staff, on this occasion, had neglected to tell the networks about the submarine far enough in advance. Chartered airplanes already had flown out film from an earlier event.

By the next day, something else Carter discussing farm problems among the mooing cows of a dairy barn was happening. So that is why America never got to see Jimmy Carter, who may be the next President, exploring a coal of a submarine. By Hugh Walker hurch traffic, whose seats are within easy reach of men falling under heavy burdens, and whose altars are hallowed by the publican's prayer. God grant that this old church on the busiest corner of the town may be increasingly this kind of church." This book is remindful that on Sunday afternoon, May 2, from 2:30 to 5:30 o'clock, Presbyterians from several Midstate churches will gather at the downtown church to honor their Presbyterian heritage, in connection with the bicentennial. The public is memorable occasion.

Sunday, April 25. 1976 Fresch, a retired Ohio businessman. It was then that he turned to Nashville and First American and Guaranty Mortgage for money to remodel the Hacienda. The next year he was back for more this time for $2 million as "earnest money" for the purchase of the Chicago-based Recrion which then owned the Stardust and the Fremont in Las at a price of about $60 million. He flew to Nashville to confer with Neely at the Iat-ter'shome the night of April 4, 1974, and the following morning.

In a deposition he gave in a civil suit, Glick said he and Neely talked about the possibility of the bank financing the entire $60 million transaction, but he left with only the assurance of the $2 million escrow deposit. GLICK SAID THAT Saratoga, in which he still had half interest, had $1 million in certificates of deposit at First American and the bank had on file his own personal financial statement. He said Neely granted him a $1 million letter of credit "on the spot." Glick secured the $60 million loan for the purchase of Recrion from the Teamsters' pension fund. Six months after visiting Neely, he bought the property on Brick Church Pike. THE YEAR BEFORE Glick bought the Hacienda in Las Vegas, he, with Mrs.

Rand and other investors, had invested in a Mexican land development that apparently went sour later. At least, Glick asked for more time to repay the loans on it. Subsequently, he was confronted with other problems, It was okay, but it lacked the punch, the drama, of the "Next President" risking his life to view the plight of the coal miners. The helicopter took off with the the press conference film, but CBS and ABC didn't use it. Parts of it appeared in a minute and a half report by Oliver on NBC.

Carter had virtually wasted his day. To Smith, the incident recalled a similar event staged in Manitowac, a month ago, a week before that crucial primary. Manitowac has an old submarine on the riverfront as a memorial. Carter, a former submarine officer, got there in the early afternoon, in a light snow. and seem to say, 'remember The great bell in the tower peals out its summons above all the noises of the city, reminding men of the other world.

"Give me a church located where life is densest, and human need is greatest not a church in some sequestered sylvan retreat, not a temple in some lonely solitude far removed from the walks of life and attended only by the dren of privilege and leisure, but give me a church whose doorstep is on the pavement, against whose walls beat and lap the tides of labor, whose hymns mingle with the rattle of cars and the groans of Do Go Awry CLICK'S NASHVILLE borrowings, beginning in 1973, were disclosed by the Tennes-sean last February after the resignation at the age of 53 of K. S. (Steve) Neely as a senior vice president of First American National Bank. Neely had previously resigned as president of Guaranty Mortgage, a wholly-owned subsidiary of the bank. Documents made public showed Click still owed $7 million loaned to renovate the Hacienda and put up a camper park there, ana another $5 million was listed as debts to the bank and mortgage company in petitions filed in bankruptcy court in San Diego by Saratoga Development Corp.

After borrowing the money from the bank and mortgage by opponents for a minor slip of the tongue. The other candidates appear to be having a lesser impact than Jackson and Carter. Udall has pockets of support among blacks and suburban liberals in Philadelphia, and a small organization working in Pittsburg. But his efforts have been spotty and short of money. Udall's finish here may be so disappointing that he could be forced to drop out of the race, or cease active campaigning.

Wallace finished second in Pennsylvania in the 1972 primary, behind Humphrey. But most Pennsylvania politicians believe that there is little Wallace support left. Wallace came within 3,000 votes of carrying the county where Pittsburg is located in 1972, but Mayor Flaherty, for one, believes that his support there has dwindled sharply. Wallace originally had not planned to campaign in the state, but changed his mind abruptly last week, making a two-day swing to hold press conferences. The Alabama governor may have been trying to raise money, which he badly needs, to finance stronger efforts in later primaries in Georgia, Alabama, Tennessee Kentucky and Arkansas.

If Carter does lose here on Tuesday, it will not be the end of his campaign, or probably even his status as frontrun-ner. But a loss does mean one important thing: It gives Humphrey time, a precious commodity. It adds to the indecision of the party, and gives the growing Humphrey sentiment time to develop. A Carter victory will shift the spotlight. Jackson, Udall and Wallace will be further away from any serious possibility of winning the nomination.

It will be Humphrey's time at bat, for the fourth time in the last two decades. The Carter victory here, if it develops, will shoot him forward with even more momentum into primaries where his prospects look promising-Ohio, Indiana, Michigan, Georgia, Tennessee, Ken-, tucky. Some Democratic strategists feel that the only way to stop Carter's nomination get their reports on the air. From New York, Small ruled that in fairness, CBS wouldn't use the film either. So it was discarded.

Since there had never been objections to pool reports before, some network employes speculated that Small might have been influenced by fears of labor difficulties. A producers' union is striking NBC, and the appearance of CBS-produced film on the rival network might have spread the strike. Carter finally emerged from the mine, slapped off the coal dust, and found his media event in collapse. He tried gamely anyway, keeping on his coveralls and holding a press conference in what looked like a classroom. (Cont'd from 1-B) Carter stumped through the Pittsburgh area with Flaherty at his side, denouncing the old-time political machine represented by Rizzo.

He described the Rizzo or-ganization as "A machine operation where votes can be delivered from the top by pressure. I deplore that sort of thing." The nearest thing to an issue which has developed in this campaign is Carter's statement on "ethnic purity" three weeks ago, for which Carter later apologized. The statement angered many blacks, including some supporters like Congressman Andrew Young of Atlanta, who called it "disgusting." But Carter has been working hard to repair the damage and recoup the substantial black vote which helped him in the early primaries. He may have been successful. One night last week in Pittsburg, a black audience seemed cool to Carter at first.

But they also seemed reassured when Young came to the Platform to tell them: "I check white folks out real close, especially when I'm going way out on a limb. 1 didn't support him when he ran for governor, but he always teemed to do what was right." Carter tells audiences frankly that he made a mistake in using the phrase. "I came to realize that the phrase I used was wrong, that it had a connotation of racism to some people." He goes on to explain that he meant that the federal government shouldn't use its power to break up neighborhoods with an ethnic heritage a position virtually identical with Jackson's and Udall's. Carter ends his explanation with a joke: "Udall, Jackson and the President have all jumped on me about It. I apologized.

I guess the only way I can get out of it is to have President Ford pardon me. The impact of the ethnic purity statement is hard to calculate here. Blacks make up 9 of the population; white ethnics 23. A stream of letters to Pennsylvania newspapers last week seemed to indicate that voters sympathize with Carter for what they regard as unnecessarily harsh attacks com mittee at the bank and not by him personally. Both Neely and bank officials said that Neely's dealings with Click had nothing to do with his resignation.

WHEN SARATOGA FILED for bankruptcy last May, it listed some $40 million in debts and about the same in assets. The bankruptcy petition listed $4 million owed to First American as an "unsecured" claim. The petition also showed that Guaranty Mortgage lent Saratoga $5 million, in two separate transactions, in December 1973 and January 1974, on the same piece of property, which is listed as being valued at $988,000. Later that year, Guaranty made three separate loans on the same day, June 14, for a total of $1.1 million on property listed as valued at $404,000. GLICK, NOW ONE of the highest paid executives in the nation, at $310,000 a year, is the son of a Pittsburgh scrap iron dealer, who majored in political science at Allegheny College and Ohio State University.

He also studied law at Western Reserve University and passed bar examinations in Pennsylvania and California, but has never practiced law actively. Shortly after graduating from law school, Glick entered the Army, and rose to the rank of captain as a special insurgency group officer Plans (Cont'd from 1-B) Mine Workers aren't joining the "Stop Carter" move-, ment in next Tuesday's important primary. It would also show, Carter's managers thought, his empathy for the blue collar workers, whom Carter desperately needs to win that primary. The networks, all three of them, appeared keenly interested. They jointly chartered a helicopter to speed the film back from the mountainside to Pittsburgh for transmission to the shows of Cronkite, Chancellor and Reasoner.

There was one problem: Mine safety inspectors would permit only one camera crew to go into the mine with Carter. On Tuesday night, Don Oliver, the NBC reporter with Carter, Sam Donaldson, the ABC reporter, and Ed Rabel of CBS, met and reached an agreement that they would "pool" the mine sequence. In a pool arrangement, the networks agree to share the film of one camera crew. On the Carter campaign, the networks have alternated a pool team on the Carter motorcade since the Florida primary, when the regular press bus got lost for two hours. It was decided that CBS would pool the mine event with a camera crew headed by John Smith, a Nashvillian assigned to the Carter campaign for 11 weeks.

On schedule Wednesday morning, Smith, a former WLAC-TV photographer who went on to cover Vietnam for CBS, descended into the mine shaft with his crew, following Carter. "It was pretty good stuff," Smith said later of the scenes he had photographed. "Carter was looking at the coal face, walking around talking to the miners in safety glasses and a helmet. It was a helluva lot better than him standing up in some room." Meanwhile, the other reporters (except a Philadelphia writer representing the print media) waited outside the mine. And there the whole media event blew up.

In New York, William Small, vice president for news at CBS, learned of the pool arrangement for the first time and ordered his employes not to participate in it or share the film. The decision came while Smith was in the mine; it was too late to send an ABC or NBC crew, even If competitive pressures had allowed an agreement. Outside the mine, the crews of ABC and NBC reacted angrily. They were left without the film which would surely TENNESSEE BOOKMAN Side wo after a Pennsylvania win would be a massive effort by Humphrey in the late primaries. Humphrey is still saying this week that he won't enter.

"My party knows where I am if it wants me," he says. In Minneapolis last week, Humphrey said that a candi- date like Carter who goes into the convention with less than 1,000 votes (1,505 are needed for nomination) cannot win. It is a strong possibility that Carter won't have those 1,505 votes. And Humphrey is planning on calling on his old friends in the traditional wing of the Democratic Party the vast AFL-CIO machinery and the political organizations like the ones at work for Jackson in Pennsylvania to broker the convention for him. It is a risky strategy, but one that apparently worries Carter increasingly.

Carter is issuing warnings that a brokered convention, taking the nomination away from a candidate who has fought it out and won in the primaries, is repugnant to the American people. Their sense of fairness, he says, would turn them away from the party in November. Polling done this year indicates that Carter has a point. Much of Carter's support has come from former Wallace supporters, blacks who seem to trust him instinctively, Democrats who voted for Nixon in 1972, political newcomers with a deep distrust of Washington. In short, those are the sort of voters the Democrats need, along with the traditional party structure, to oust President Ford.

Estes Kefauver, like Carter, once won the string of primaries, but was denied the convention nomination by powerful party leaders. It could happen to Carter. But the party also needs the traditional elements like the big labor unions and the big city mayors, the liberals who like Humphrey. That kind of division cost the party the last two presidential elections, with the defection of the left from Humphrey in 1968 and the shunning of George McGo-vern by labor and party moderates in 1972. The Carter phenomenon is markedly different from the ideological struggle of the McGovern movement of 1972, but in one respect it is similar: outsiders challenging the insiders.

The dimensions of the Carter tide are not yet clear, even after two months of the primary season, in only one of his six primary victories-North Carolina did Carter win a majority of the Democratic vote-Still, there is considerable force behind it. Carter may be vague on issues, but he has attracted a curious and divergent constituency with his anti-Washington pitch, his re-. ligious undertones, and his subtle promises of candor and honesty in government. That force would grow considerably with a Pennsylvania victory for Carter on Tuesday. In realistic terms, the only man standing between Carter and the nomination would be Hubert Humphrey.

And Humphrey, the happy warrior of many lost battles, the comfortable father figure still so beloved by many of the Earty faithful, must decide ow to move next. Pennsylvania could exhaust his supply of pet rocks. 177' CHURCH histories related to Middle Tennessee offer a fascinating field for collectors. I started about 20 years ago with McFerrin's Metho- dism in Tennessee, a three volume work. I remember that I got it from a fellow collector who happened to have a duplicate set B.

C. Goodpasture. I swapped him something for it what it was I don't remember but whatever it was, it was a good deal. JUST RECENTLY I acquired a book I had long admired. It is bound in blue cloth, with end papers resembling gold-streaked marble or maybe lightning streaks against a blue sky.

The title is First Presbyterian Church Nashville, and there is no single author. It was published in 1915, and celebrated the centennial of what is now the Downtown Presbyterian Church. Contributors included William E. Beard, Rev. James H.

McNeilly, Rev. William M. Anderson, Walter W. Moore and Rev. James I.

Vance, then the minister of the church. There are many rare things in this book as in most good church histories. They include a rare portrait of A. W. Put-! nam, the historian of Middle Tennessee, which appears with this column.

And then there is that wonderful paragraph from the centennial sermon preached in 1914 by the Rev. Dr. James I. Vance. He said: "We are a downtown church.

Some regard this as a handicap. I look upon it as an asset. These smoke-begrimed towers look down on the busy street thronged with people Ft 1 i 1,1" few Historian A. W. Putnam A veteran of the First Presbyterian Sen.

Henry (Scoop) Jackson campaigns for votes in the presidential primary..