The American music industry—a glittering emblem of creativity and rebellion—has long been shadowed by less savory forces. As rock ‘n’ roll roared through the 1960s, it wasn’t just guitar strings that vibrated across the cultural soundscape. Organized crime, particularly the Mob, found its way into the entertainment world, exploiting the industry’s inherent chaos.
Photo: Richard Carlin, CC BY-SA 4.0

Few stories encapsulate this collision of art and crime better than Tommy James’s critically acclaimed memoir, Me, The Mob, And The Music. Chronicling his meteoric rise alongside his entanglement with Morris Levy—the godfather-like head of Roulette Records—James offers a riveting account of how mob tactics intertwined with chart-topping success.
As James’s memoir enters pre-production for a cinematic adaptation helmed by Barbara DeFina, whose credits include Goodfellas and Casino, the timing is apt to revisit the book’s themes and explore their broader cultural resonance. The Mob’s influence on industries ranging from construction to entertainment fascinates because of its mix of brutality and shrewd business acumen. Within the music world, the story of Tommy James and Morris Levy provides a compelling lens to examine how organized crime shaped careers and controlled finances, drawing parallels with cultural artifacts like The Sopranos.
By the mid-20th century, the music business presented immense opportunities for profit, encompassing recording, publishing, live performances, and distribution. However, its lack of oversight left artists vulnerable to exploitation. Morris Levy’s Roulette Records became a prime example of how the Mob infiltrated the industry, wielding power through intimidation and corruption while enabling remarkable artistic achievements. Levy, a figure of contradictions, combined the eye of a talent scout with the ruthlessness of a Mob enforcer. For Tommy James, his relationship with Levy was both a blessing and a curse—a mix of creative freedom and financial exploitation.
The story of how Tommy James came to Roulette Records exemplifies the strong-arm tactics of Levy’s operation. After Tommy James’s single “Hanky Panky” exploded unexpectedly out of Pittsburgh in 1966, James traveled to New York to pursue a record deal. Major labels, including Columbia and RCA, eagerly courted him, and it seemed like success was guaranteed. However, as James recounted in a January 2020 interview on the Huckabee show, “The next morning I started getting calls from all the record companies that said yes, and they all said, ‘Listen, Tom, we got to pass.’” It was Jerry Wexler of Atlantic Records who finally revealed the truth: Morris Levy had called the other labels and declared, “This is my f-cking record! Leave it alone.” The quote, attributed to Levy, was first recounted in James’s memoir, further underscoring the Mob’s hold on the industry.
Roulette Records turned “Hanky Panky” into a number-one hit and launched James into stardom. Yet, as James himself admitted, “If we had gone with one of the corporate labels, we probably would have been lucky to have been a one-hit wonder.” Instead, Levy’s laissez-faire approach to music allowed James the freedom to explore creatively, resulting in 23 gold singles, including “Mony Mony” and “Crimson And Clover.” However, the price of this freedom became clear as millions of dollars in royalties disappeared into Levy’s coffers. James described this duality succinctly: “They rolled out the red carpet for us creatively, but financially, it was a very different story.”
Photo attribution: Public Domain

Levy’s operations extended far beyond the recording studio, infiltrating every facet of the industry, including distribution networks. Using intimidation tactics, Roulette Records secured retail dominance by coercing department stores and record shops into stocking counterfeit records. One particularly audacious example involved Levy threatening to flood the market with bootleg copies of a rival label’s records unless they paid him off. These schemes not only enriched Levy but underscored how deeply the Mob’s influence permeated the music industry. James’s career, while distanced from these illegal acts, remained tightly bound to their consequences. As James reflected, “One day, I have to ask the good Lord what exactly He had in mind.”
James’s anecdotes often juxtapose the absurdity and menace of his time at Roulette Records. In one surreal episode, Levy demanded that James perform at a Mob wedding, placing his bubblegum hits in front of a room filled with gangsters. At other times, the stakes were more dire. During a Mafia war in the early 1970s, James was advised to leave New York for his safety. Relocating to Nashville, he recorded the album My Head, My Bed, and My Red Guitar, taking a brief respite from the chaos of Roulette, though the specter of Levy’s world continued to loom over his life and career.
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These stories evoke comparisons to The Sopranos and its character Hesh Rabkin, a music mogul inspired by Levy. Rabkin’s exploitation of artists and the show’s dark humor mirror James’s reality, where success and survival were inextricably linked. For instance, James recounted a moment when he demanded royalties from Levy, only to be met with a chilling response: “Sometimes it’s better not to ask too many questions.” These anecdotes highlight the precarious balance James had to maintain within a system defined by power and fear.
Photo: Public Domain under CC0 1.0 Universal via Wikimedia Commons

Despite the financial exploitation and moral compromises, James’s legacy is also defined by artistic triumphs. Tracks like “Crystal Blue Persuasion” remain iconic, showcasing a blend of heartfelt lyricism and innovative production. His most recent album, Alive, released in 2020, reflects his enduring passion for music. Featuring collaborations with luminaries like Stevie Van Zandt and Gene Cornish, it demonstrates James’s ability to adapt and thrive creatively decades after his initial success.
Photo by Shelly S., cropped and licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0

As Me, The Mob, And The Music transitions from page to screen, its narrative serves as a microcosm of the American music industry’s entanglement with organized crime. The tale of Tommy James, Morris Levy, and Roulette Records illustrates the high stakes and dark allure that defined rock ‘n’ roll’s golden age. It’s a story where artistic brilliance coexists with systemic corruption, reminding audiences of the precarious path to fame in an industry both electrifying and perilous.
Even as audiences await the cinematic adaptation, James’s story continues to resonate. It speaks to the complexities of navigating a world where creative freedom often comes with a steep price. James’s story, like the music he created, endures as both a cautionary tale and a celebration of resilience—a reminder of the indelible marks left by brilliance and compromise on the cultural landscape of rock ‘n’ roll.
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