Originally he was scheduled for questioning on March 10, 1997, but the old man's lawyers explained that their client was extremely ill, suffering from "severe life-threatening conditions," practically on his death bed. They recorded the conversation. Just so everyone got the point, Jeff Bumb announced to the press that he and Brian were divesting from Bay 101, and records show he eventually sold his shares for $1.4 million. George Bumb Sr., an avid card player, held a regular weekly family poker game at his home. And then police remembered the old rumors about a murder plot at the Flea Market, where Venzon had worked as a security guard for more than 15 years. "He took care of it." He also runs day-to-day operations at the family-owned Flea Market. His crimes included taking valuables from the bereaved family members of dead crime victims while pretending to console them. Still Standing: Jeff Bumb, Bay 101's ostracized founder, boasts that despite various local, state and federal investigations over the years he has emerged squeaky clean. He chose the building's peachy-pink paint job, he says, because he wanted "a pleasant, welcoming earth tone." In response to Jeff's legal attacks, George Bumb Sr. and Bumb & Associates filed two separate suits of their own to collect nearly $1 million in loans and interest they claimed Jeff never paid. Eight months later, the frame of the weapon was found in a Salinas pond near Venzon's home with the barrel and slide missing. "He worked for me." OK--we didn't get out--OK? Well, guess what? And he [Jeff] wants me to violate the condition which says in it that I sign away my rights and they close us down. Jeff Bumb remembers that when he was going to school at Bellarmine in the '60s, the other kids would call him things like "Bumbsy" or "Bumbo." Realizing that, Jeff offered to pay higher card-room taxes (next year the city expects to collect $4.5 million from Bay 101) and pick up the tab for security. "I'm a big boy." The district attorney's office says that Bumb attorney Ron Werner turned the letter over to authorities immediately after it came in the mail. Earlier this year, a month before Venzon was sentenced to 14 years in prison, district attorney investigator Michael Schembri closed out the Venzon case, noting in a court filing, "No new information has been uncovered relating to the murder for hire case [at the Flea Market] which our department investigated several years ago." They recorded the conversation. (In one case, George Bumb Sr. loaned Jeff $31,250 in 1992 for his son to invest in Bay 101.) (In one case, George Bumb Sr. loaned Jeff $31,250 in 1992 for his son to invest in Bay 101.) His crimes included taking valuables from the bereaved family members of dead crime victims while pretending to console them. But Jeff says the loan dispute screwed up their moving plans. He and his brothers had a plan, he says. When Werner broke the news that Jeff's brothers wouldn't write a letter on his behalf, he says Jeff became furious. But Jeff and his family started hearing that instead of showing concern and support for his daughter, George Bumb Sr. and others in the family were blaming his freshman daughter for the incident and not her adult-age cousin. At the time, Jeff was in the midst of negotiating an arrangement to be bought out of the family businesses. As a compromise of sorts, he was debating whether he should apply for a license as a gaming-club manager instead of as an owner. At one point in the investigation, sheriff's detectives had Jeff's daughter call Matthew while he was working at the Flea Market to confirm the sexual activities. For all his quirks and controlling behavior, the old man is regarded as a benefactor by most family members and some Flea Market employees who know their boss to be capable of great generosity. Near the end Venzon writes, "They want to bring up the 'murder-for-hire' investigation again. Other allegations were more dubious: Investigators chased after a tip that the Bumbs were skimming cash from the Flea Market parking lot, an accusation that was never proven. But Jeff says the loan dispute screwed up their moving plans. He started telling people around the office that he wanted out of the family business. But he didn't cash out. The only reason we are driving around in his Lexus today is because he knows I have read the bizarre and bitter contents of a 2-foot-high stack of documents down at the Santa Clara County Superior Courthouse. George Bumb Jr., the quiet one with a flair for things mechanical, was already at the controls of Air One Helicopter. "He worked for me." Meanwhile, Jeff and his lawyers spent 15 months trying get his father to appear at a deposition. According to Jeff, there was tremendous pressure from his father and others in the family to keep the incest a secret. "They didn't teach anything about this. Christopher Gardner Meanwhile, Jeff and his lawyers spent 15 months trying get his father to appear at a deposition. "My issue with [George Bumb Sr.]," Jeff Bumb complains about his father, "was his control of where you lived, what kind of house you bought, where your children went to school, who your friends are, whether your children went to college, who they would marry, what kind of wedding they would have." At one point in the investigation, sheriff's detectives had Jeff's daughter call Matthew while he was working at the Flea Market to confirm the sexual activities. Before the end of the month, the Flea Market laid off Jeff's daughters Anne and Rebecca. He also disputes that such a letter was even necessary for Jeff to get licensed. In February 1994, nearly one year after the San Jose City Council gave Bay 101 its blessing, the state denied the Bumbs and their partners' gaming license application. Within weeks, Jeff says, his six-month-old dog was dead, his cat was dead and the tires of a family car were slashed. "He worked for me." AN ATTORNEY involved likened the whole contentious affair to a divorce. In fact, he hasn't set foot in the place since October 1995, the year he stopped talking to his father and three brothers. Eight days after the molestation incident was reported to police--and one day after Jeff Bumb formally refused his father's $6.9 million buyout offer--George Bumb Sr. sent Jeff a curt typewritten memo informing Jeff that he was terminated effective immediately and had to clean out his desk before 5pm. (That thing that involved Jeff when Bay 101 was scheduled to open but didn't.)" They recorded the conversation. And Jeff himself had been playing poker since he was 12. During his long tenure at the Flea Market, Venzon apparently developed a close relationship with George Bumb Sr. "Could he [Jeff] do any other work on his own behalf?" Bumb family attorney Ron Werner suggested that Jeff and his family had a hidden motive for waiting nearly a month to report the incident to police. But Jeff says that privately he and his brothers had an oral agreement--which Tim Bumb now corroborates--that would one day let him repurchase his shares and become a partner in Bay 101 again. "Could he [Jeff] do any other work on his own behalf?" Originally he was scheduled for questioning on March 10, 1997, but the old man's lawyers explained that their client was extremely ill, suffering from "severe life-threatening conditions," practically on his death bed. A FEW DAYS AFTER returning from his son's Oct. 13, 1995, military graduation in San Diego, Jeff and his wife, Elizabeth, got some appalling news: Their 14-year-old daughter had been involved in a sexual relationship with an older male cousin. ALL TOGETHER, the intrafamily litigation has spanned nearly three years. And it was very explicit in there that no Bumbs could have anything to do with the club. She told police about at least seven other sexual encounters she had with her cousin after that. And then there's the stuff that never made it into headlines, like the alleged murder-for-hire plot out at the Flea Market. Still Standing: Jeff Bumb, Bay 101's ostracized founder, boasts that despite various local, state and federal investigations over the years he has emerged squeaky clean. Toward the end of the call, things got heated. Three years ago, the Mercury News listed the Bumb family in the Top 10 of the valley's most generous political contributors. The ensuing delay forced Jeff Bumb to lay off 600 workers he had hired. And then there's the stuff that never made it into headlines, like the alleged murder-for-hire plot out at the Flea Market. According to Jeff, there was tremendous pressure from his father and others in the family to keep the incest a secret. But Jeff says that privately he and his brothers had an oral agreement--which Tim Bumb now corroborates--that would one day let him repurchase his shares and become a partner in Bay 101 again. Christopher Gardner attorney Frank Ubhaus asked the Bumb patriarch. And it was very explicit in there that no Bumbs could have anything to do with the club. Some improprieties did turn up: Bumb & Associates, a partnership including the four brothers and their father, had failed to file required reports disclosing more than $100,000 in political contributions made between 1989 and 1992. But Jeff and his family started hearing that instead of showing concern and support for his daughter, George Bumb Sr. and others in the family were blaming his freshman daughter for the incident and not her adult-age cousin. The district attorney's office says that Bumb attorney Ron Werner turned the letter over to authorities immediately after it came in the mail. Don't Shoot: George Bumb Sr., the publicity-shy patriarch of the Bumb family and creator of the Flea Market, in a rare photo which appeared in California Today magazine in 1980. Initially, police filed felony charges against Matthew Bumb for having oral sex with a minor and penetrating her with his fingers. The couple even had a purchase contract for a $850,000 house on Golf Links Road. As we do our drive-by on a Tuesday midmorning, there are more than 100 cars in the parking lot. At one point in the investigation, sheriff's detectives had Jeff's daughter call Matthew while he was working at the Flea Market to confirm the sexual activities. You know the school we went to?" When he was jailed, the desperate cop wrote a 15-page handwritten letter in pencil to George Bumb in May 1997 asking the Flea Market owner to bail him out. "Hell, no," George Bumb replied. Meanwhile, Jeff and his lawyers spent 15 months trying get his father to appear at a deposition. In a statement to police, Jeff's daughter recounted how the first incident had happened the year before on the Fourth of July at a family beach house near Santa Cruz when the older boy allegedly started fondling her while she was asleep on the living room couch. But he didn't cash out. Tim Bumb says writing a letter on Jeff's behalf would have violated the agreement with the police chief and put the club in jeopardy. At one point in the investigation, sheriff's detectives had Jeff's daughter call Matthew while he was working at the Flea Market to confirm the sexual activities. Werner said no. Jeff's daughter interrupted Matthew and said, "And I didn't know better. Toward the end of the call, things got heated. He demanded $10 million from his brothers to compensate him for violating the purported secret Bay 101 deal. A nurse was present to monitor his condition. Police reports would suggest she had, "for about a year," been giving "blow jobs" to 19-year-old Matthew Bumb, son of George Bumb Jr. Along the way, Jeff raised the ante, hiring Frank Ubhaus, a lawyer who represented Garden City card club, Bay 101's crosstown rival. The couple even had a purchase contract for a $850,000 house on Golf Links Road. Jeff signed a deal with his brothers that prohibited him from owning Bay 101 stock until he got all the necessary licenses. And as with any divorce, embarrassing private details about the family and its businesses made their way into the public record. First, Jeff tried to have the Bumb & Associates partnership dissolved after accusing his family of trying to force him out without paying him a fair price. But Jeff says that privately he and his brothers had an oral agreement--which Tim Bumb now corroborates--that would one day let him repurchase his shares and become a partner in Bay 101 again. Their pun-afflicted surname adds to the hillbilly mystique. Within weeks, Jeff says, his six-month-old dog was dead, his cat was dead and the tires of a family car were slashed. That promised to be a hard sell to the San Jose City Council, which would have to authorize both the new site and the expansion. And as with any divorce, embarrassing private details about the family and its businesses made their way into the public record. Deputy chief Tom Wheatley says that police wondered if Venzon, or someone, destroyed the barrel to prevent a ballistics test from tracing a fired bullet to the gun. It wasn't the idea of gambling. Tim and George, under pressure from then Police Chief Lou Cobarruviaz, had already signed an agreement a year earlier that prohibited Brian, Jeff and their father from having anything to do with the card room. You think this didn't break my heart?" As a compromise of sorts, he was debating whether he should apply for a license as a gaming-club manager instead of as an owner. Jeff Bumb later explained to the press that they didn't know partnerships were required to file such reports, and they paid the state a $1,250 fine. Tim now runs Bay 101, which he says is no easy task. First, Jeff tried to have the Bumb & Associates partnership dissolved after accusing his family of trying to force him out without paying him a fair price. Of the four brothers, Tim and George had faced the least resistance from state gaming officials. You think this didn't break my heart?" "They didn't teach anything about this. And he [Jeff] wants me to violate the condition which says in it that I sign away my rights and they close us down. Eight days after the molestation incident was reported to police--and one day after Jeff Bumb formally refused his father's $6.9 million buyout offer--George Bumb Sr. sent Jeff a curt typewritten memo informing Jeff that he was terminated effective immediately and had to clean out his desk before 5pm. "He worked for me." And that ain't happening because I can't afford it." In February 1994, nearly one year after the San Jose City Council gave Bay 101 its blessing, the state denied the Bumbs and their partners' gaming license application. In fact, Tim and George had to agree not to collaborate with other Bumbs on any new business venture. The ensuing delay forced Jeff Bumb to lay off 600 workers he had hired. "They had to find Snow White and Cinderella," Tim Bumb says, "and that was George and I." The elder Bumb may not have been feeling well, but he wasn't too sick to remember who was boss in this family. Jeff signed a deal with his brothers that prohibited him from owning Bay 101 stock until he got all the necessary licenses. Bay 101 was Jeff's idea--no one disputes that. "I don't need their help," he barked at Werner. George Bumb Sr.'s loan-repayment demands came in July 1996, just as his oldest son and his wife were about to move to Los Gatos and break away from the family and its eastside enclave. Eight months later, the frame of the weapon was found in a Salinas pond near Venzon's home with the barrel and slide missing. Finally, in July 1994, the state cleared Tim and George and gave them a conditional OK to let the games begin. Don't Shoot: George Bumb Sr., the publicity-shy patriarch of the Bumb family and creator of the Flea Market, in a rare photo which appeared in California Today magazine in 1980. (In one case, George Bumb Sr. loaned Jeff $31,250 in 1992 for his son to invest in Bay 101.) It's like we had no life except for the family." "They didn't teach anything about this. "I'm a big boy." AN ATTORNEY involved likened the whole contentious affair to a divorce. "I'm a big boy." "My issue with [George Bumb Sr.]," Jeff Bumb complains about his father, "was his control of where you lived, what kind of house you bought, where your children went to school, who your friends are, whether your children went to college, who they would marry, what kind of wedding they would have." Tim now runs Bay 101, which he says is no easy task. The teenagers had been drinking booze earlier in the night. It pitted Bumb against Bumb. FROM THE START, Jeff's three brothers and father didn't share his enthusiasm for opening a lavish gaming house. He asked longtime family attorney Ron Werner if his brothers could write a recommendation letter for him, something state officials had told him he would need to be considered eligible for a gaming license. EIGHT MONTHS AFTER its approval by the City Council, the peach-colored Bay 101 held its "grand opening."
Aniara Filming Locations,
Sonnenberg's Meat Boxes,
Kentucky State Police Officers List,
South West Dc Item Received Shein,
Morrisons Saver Stamps Expiry Date April 2020,
Articles B