George Bumb Jr., the quiet one with a flair for things mechanical, was already at the controls of Air One Helicopter. 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. 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. 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. And that ain't happening because I can't afford it." 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. She recalled that she was dressed in shorts and a T-shirt covered by a blanket. Preventive Medicine: George Bumb Jr. is a co-owner of Bay 101, where a snakebite kit is kept on-hand as a family joke. Toward the end of the call, things got heated. Before the end of the month, the Flea Market laid off Jeff's daughters Anne and Rebecca. Jeff's daughter interrupted Matthew and said, "And I didn't know better. And there were gamblers everywhere who had come looking for some action. Ultimately, the charges against the older Bumb were reduced to a misdemeanor. 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. 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. The couple even had a purchase contract for a $850,000 house on Golf Links Road. In fact, he hasn't set foot in the place since October 1995, the year he stopped talking to his father and three brothers. They recorded the conversation. Now that their gaming license had been denied, a decision needed to be made--quickly. 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. 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. According to Jeff, there was tremendous pressure from his father and others in the family to keep the incest a secret. And Brian, the handsome and gregarious youngest brother, was in charge of day-to-day operations at the Flea Market. "They didn't teach anything about this. He demanded $10 million from his brothers to compensate him for violating the purported secret Bay 101 deal. 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." And Jeff himself had been playing poker since he was 12. The investigation was given a shot in the arm after the arrest of Johnny Venzon in 1997, a cop who made headlines for burglarizing homes while on duty to pay for his mounting gambling debts. Now that their gaming license had been denied, a decision needed to be made--quickly. 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. But his dream, which now seemed so close to being a reality, was about to become a nightmare. THINGS WERE certainly simpler back in the old days, before Bay 101, when the Bumbs were known for the Berryessa Flea Market, the family-owned business started in 1960 by 75-year-old family patriarch George Bumb Sr. The guy doesn't get a slap on the hand." And that ain't happening because I can't afford it." It pitted Bumb against Bumb. "I don't need their help," he barked at Werner. Whenever trouble arose at the Flea Market with city code or building inspectors, the Bumbs sent Jeff to settle things. The guy doesn't get a slap on the hand." 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. Tim now runs Bay 101, which he says is no easy task. The teenagers had been drinking booze earlier in the night. 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. But his dream, which now seemed so close to being a reality, was about to become a nightmare. Toward the end of the call, things got heated. It's like we had no life except for the family." One month later, the state attorney general's office made a devastating announcement: Authorities had come across issues of "such magnitude" and "concern" that they would need at least another month to decide if gambling should be allowed at Bay 101. And that ain't happening because I can't afford it." Jeff tells the story differently: "Matthew was my godson. 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. 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. "We made it very clear to Jeff and everybody else concerned," Tim says, "that I'm not going to stick my neck on the line here. 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. "I'm a big boy." 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. And that ain't happening because I can't afford it." And as with any divorce, embarrassing private details about the family and its businesses made their way into the public record. He wanted to relocate and expand Sutter's Place in Alviso from a five-table card room to a 40-table one, matching the size of Northern California's largest card room, Garden City in San Jose. It wasn't the idea of gambling. Christopher Gardner Unlike other partners, neither Jeff nor Brian had buyback provisions in their written agreements, an intentional omission meant to appease state gaming officials who wanted them out of the picture. He was also the kind of guy, police records reveal, who told his mother about the incidents "because he felt guilty." In fact, Tim and George had to agree not to collaborate with other Bumbs on any new business venture. A nurse was present to monitor his condition. The district attorney's office says that Bumb attorney Ron Werner turned the letter over to authorities immediately after it came in the mail. During the Venzon investigation, San Jose police dug up an old file from November 1990 in which Venzon, a sheriff's deputy, had reported his department-issued Smith & Wesson 9 mm automatic stolen. 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. attorney Frank Ubhaus asked the Bumb patriarch. The day before, Monday at noon, half of the club's tables were full of gamblers playing seven card stud, Omaha and Texas Hold 'Em. Christopher Gardner Ultimately, the charges against the older Bumb were reduced to a misdemeanor. She recalled that she was dressed in shorts and a T-shirt covered by a blanket. "We made it very clear to Jeff and everybody else concerned," Tim says, "that I'm not going to stick my neck on the line here. OK--we didn't get out--OK? Unlike other partners, neither Jeff nor Brian had buyback provisions in their written agreements, an intentional omission meant to appease state gaming officials who wanted them out of the picture. Before the end of the month, the Flea Market laid off Jeff's daughters Anne and Rebecca. ALL TOGETHER, the intrafamily litigation has spanned nearly three years. And then, just when it seemed as though family relations couldn't get any worse, they did. 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. As legend has it, the Bumbs still send a monthly check to the widow of a former head of security who died of a brain tumor 20 years ago. And then, just when it seemed as though family relations couldn't get any worse, they did. ON AUG. 11, 1995, Jeff sat in his Flea Market office scribbling on a piece of paper, plotting his grand return to his peach palace. According to Werner, molestation of his daughter became part of a laundry list of damning things Jeff threatened to disclose if his buy-out demands weren't met. EVERY DAY THE CLUB stayed closed, the Bumbs lost more money. Over the past year alone, Bumb & Associates and Bay 101 have given $56,000 to now-Attorney General Bill Lockyer, the man in charge of card-room regulation. It pitted Bumb against Bumb. And it was very explicit in there that no Bumbs could have anything to do with the club. EIGHT MONTHS AFTER its approval by the City Council, the peach-colored Bay 101 held its "grand opening." Within weeks, Jeff says, his six-month-old dog was dead, his cat was dead and the tires of a family car were slashed. Initially, police filed felony charges against Matthew Bumb for having oral sex with a minor and penetrating her with his fingers. (In one case, George Bumb Sr. loaned Jeff $31,250 in 1992 for his son to invest in Bay 101.) The elder Bumb may not have been feeling well, but he wasn't too sick to remember who was boss in this family. 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. 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. 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. Of the four brothers, Tim and George had faced the least resistance from state gaming officials. Jeff's grandfather, Frank Bumb, had met his wife, Mary, at a card parlor in San Francisco where they worked. And for nearly a month, they did. Eight months later, the frame of the weapon was found in a Salinas pond near Venzon's home with the barrel and slide missing. 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. Or at least he thought he didn't. According to Werner, molestation of his daughter became part of a laundry list of damning things Jeff threatened to disclose if his buy-out demands weren't met. 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. Jeff tells the story differently: "Matthew was my godson. 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. Jeff entertained offers to buy the club, the highest bid, he recalls, coming in at $40 million. A nurse was present to monitor his condition. She told police about at least seven other sexual encounters she had with her cousin after that. Finally, in July 1994, the state cleared Tim and George and gave them a conditional OK to let the games begin. ALL TOGETHER, the intrafamily litigation has spanned nearly three years. Privacy hasn't been so easy to come by for the Bumbs in the '90s, since they got involved in Bay 101. The Bumbs' reputation as an unconventional, insular, wealthy, large brood keeps tongues in political circles flapping. The two, she said, never talked about what was going on while it was happening. Meanwhile, Jeff and his lawyers spent 15 months trying get his father to appear at a deposition. The district attorney's office says that Bumb attorney Ron Werner turned the letter over to authorities immediately after it came in the mail. Unlike other partners, neither Jeff nor Brian had buyback provisions in their written agreements, an intentional omission meant to appease state gaming officials who wanted them out of the picture. And then there's the stuff that never made it into headlines, like the alleged murder-for-hire plot out at the Flea Market. 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. Now that their gaming license had been denied, a decision needed to be made--quickly. And as with any divorce, embarrassing private details about the family and its businesses made their way into the public record. The teenagers had been drinking booze earlier in the night. On Nov. 8, 1995, attorney Albin Danell, Elizabeth's brother-in-law, contacted the police, apparently after consulting with Elizabeth. And it was very explicit in there that no Bumbs could have anything to do with the club. Tim and George Jr. would appeal and reapply, the hope being that the club would open as soon as possible. Privacy hasn't been so easy to come by for the Bumbs in the '90s, since they got involved in Bay 101. 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. And he [Jeff] wants me to violate the condition which says in it that I sign away my rights and they close us down. Tim, the second youngest of George Bumb's four boys, was already running the family toy business, Fact Games, and Premium Pet Stores. And Jeff himself had been playing poker since he was 12. The elder Bumb may not have been feeling well, but he wasn't too sick to remember who was boss in this family. At the time, San Jose, like cities throughout the state, was strapped for cash, looking at an $11 million budget shortfall. Even in the tangle of legal briefs and heated accusations, no one denies that Jeff is the one who hunted down a site, negotiated the deal and spent hours on the phone lobbying San Jose City Council members for a big, new gaming house in San Jose. 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's daughter interrupted Matthew and said, "And I didn't know better. But he didn't cash out. (In one case, George Bumb Sr. loaned Jeff $31,250 in 1992 for his son to invest in Bay 101.) Jeff was also getting word from his nieces and nephews that his father said at a family poker game: "If it was up to him, all the grandchildren would marry each other." Preventive Medicine: George Bumb Jr. is a co-owner of Bay 101, where a snakebite kit is kept on-hand as a family joke. 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. 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. ALL TOGETHER, the intrafamily litigation has spanned nearly three years. THINGS WERE certainly simpler back in the old days, before Bay 101, when the Bumbs were known for the Berryessa Flea Market, the family-owned business started in 1960 by 75-year-old family patriarch George Bumb Sr. He babysat the construction site every day for almost five months. "And I told you that I loved you and you are like a father to me. Jeff signed a deal with his brothers that prohibited him from owning Bay 101 stock until he got all the necessary licenses. Now that their gaming license had been denied, a decision needed to be made--quickly. He followed that with suits alleging breach of contract, wrongful termination and misrepresentation. Meanwhile, Jeff and his lawyers spent 15 months trying get his father to appear at a deposition. The elder Bumb may not have been feeling well, but he wasn't too sick to remember who was boss in this family. The district attorney's office says that Bumb attorney Ron Werner turned the letter over to authorities immediately after it came in the mail. 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. It wasn't the money, either. 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. 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. I'm on the hook for $15 million. 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. Before the end of the month, the Flea Market laid off Jeff's daughters Anne and Rebecca. In a fit, he took the paper he was writing on, crumpled it up and threw it out the office door. Even though all the lights were out, she told police that she knew it was Matthew "because the moonlight shined into the room through the large windows that faced the ocean." 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 took care of it." Matthew is the kind of guy a relative described to police as "polite," the guy parents wanted their daughters to date. At the time, Jeff was in the midst of negotiating an arrangement to be bought out of the family businesses. 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. But Jeff says the loan dispute screwed up their moving plans. Though authorities were never able to prove a paid snuff plot, Jeff Bumb believes the allegations were a factor contributing to authorities' mistrust of him. "Hell, no," George Bumb replied. Christopher Gardner And then there's the stuff that never made it into headlines, like the alleged murder-for-hire plot out at the Flea Market. If all this weren't enough, a sexual relationship between his 14-year-old daughter and a 19-year-old Bumb cousin was reported to police, slicing the family's cherished privacy wide open for the world to see. 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. The couple even had a purchase contract for a $850,000 house on Golf Links Road. "And when I visited you at your home I told you that other than God you are the only person I've gotten down on my knees for," Venzon says on page 7. Matthew is the kind of guy a relative described to police as "polite," the guy parents wanted their daughters to date. attorney Frank Ubhaus asked the Bumb patriarch. "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 the time, San Jose, like cities throughout the state, was strapped for cash, looking at an $11 million budget shortfall. 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. During the Venzon investigation, San Jose police dug up an old file from November 1990 in which Venzon, a sheriff's deputy, had reported his department-issued Smith & Wesson 9 mm automatic stolen. And he [Jeff] wants me to violate the condition which says in it that I sign away my rights and they close us down. Initially, police filed felony charges against Matthew Bumb for having oral sex with a minor and penetrating her with his fingers. "He worked for me." "They didn't teach anything about this. And for nearly a month, they did. Near the end Venzon writes, "They want to bring up the 'murder-for-hire' investigation again. "My wife broke the code," he says, "and I supported her." attorney Frank Ubhaus asked the Bumb patriarch. It did the unthinkable: 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. He and his brothers had a plan, he says. "I mean," Jeff later said at a deposition, "it was a time of hurt and heartache for us--and not my father, not my mother, not my brother George, not my brother Tim, not Brian could care less." "Hell, no," George Bumb replied. "And I told you that I loved you and you are like a father to me. The teenagers had been drinking booze earlier in the night. But Jeff was confident. Meanwhile, Jeff and his lawyers spent 15 months trying get his father to appear at a deposition. "What am I going to say to the vice president?" Jeff tells the story differently: "Matthew was my godson. Within weeks, Jeff says, his six-month-old dog was dead, his cat was dead and the tires of a family car were slashed. In the last five years, the Bumb family and its enterprises have been investigated for illegal political campaign contributions, an alleged profit-skimming racket out at the Berryessa Flea Market and even a murder-for-hire scheme involving Johnny Venzon, a former cop, convicted thief and gambling addict. 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. 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. EVERY DAY THE CLUB stayed closed, the Bumbs lost more money. 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. 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. "I mean," Jeff later said at a deposition, "it was a time of hurt and heartache for us--and not my father, not my mother, not my brother George, not my brother Tim, not Brian could care less." He also pulled off an armed robbery of the Aloha Roller Palace. "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 and George Jr. worried that pressuring state and city officials to deal Jeff back in at Bay 101 would backfire and authorities would close down the card room. According to Jeff, there was tremendous pressure from his father and others in the family to keep the incest a secret. The gambling palace Jeff Bumb--the oldest son who is often described as the most entrepreneurial of the four brothers--had in mind was going to take a lot of effort and political skill.