"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." The teenagers had been drinking booze earlier in the night. 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. "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." Tim, the second youngest of George Bumb's four boys, was already running the family toy business, Fact Games, and Premium Pet Stores. 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. On Nov. 8, 1995, attorney Albin Danell, Elizabeth's brother-in-law, contacted the police, apparently after consulting with Elizabeth. 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." Jeff himself was hit with a federal grand jury investigation over financial transactions in connection with a multimillion-dollar residential development near Silver Creek Road. 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. (That thing that involved Jeff when Bay 101 was scheduled to open but didn't.)" At the time, San Jose, like cities throughout the state, was strapped for cash, looking at an $11 million budget shortfall. 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. You know the school we went to?" Behind the scenes, the Bumbs suspected their potential gambling competitors and a disgruntled former Flea Market employee of giving investigators unsubstantiated material to use against them. 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. And then there's the stuff that never made it into headlines, like the alleged murder-for-hire plot out at the Flea Market. FROM THE START, Jeff's three brothers and father didn't share his enthusiasm for opening a lavish gaming house. 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. He also disputes that such a letter was even necessary for Jeff to get licensed. And for nearly a month, they did. And it was very explicit in there that no Bumbs could have anything to do with the club. 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. "I liked my name," he maintains. I'm on the hook for $15 million. VENZON WAS well known to the Bumbs. "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. She recalled that she was dressed in shorts and a T-shirt covered by a blanket. VENZON WAS well known to the Bumbs. 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 elder Bumb may not have been feeling well, but he wasn't too sick to remember who was boss in this family. "I'm a big boy." 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. And there were gamblers everywhere who had come looking for some action. "My wife broke the code," he says, "and I supported her." "Could he [Jeff] do any other work on his own behalf?" He demanded $10 million from his brothers to compensate him for violating the purported secret Bay 101 deal. Bryant, who acts as emissary for the family and its patriarch, thinks the Bumbs are a misunderstood bunch. VENZON WAS well known to the Bumbs. "I'm a big boy." 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. On weekends he'd bring his wife and a few of his 10 kids down there, too. It did the unthinkable: 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. 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. 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. Along the way, Jeff raised the ante, hiring Frank Ubhaus, a lawyer who represented Garden City card club, Bay 101's crosstown rival. "Could he [Jeff] do any other work on his own behalf?" Tim, the second youngest of George Bumb's four boys, was already running the family toy business, Fact Games, and Premium Pet Stores. And then there's the stuff that never made it into headlines, like the alleged murder-for-hire plot out at the Flea Market. 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. Meanwhile, Jeff and his lawyers spent 15 months trying get his father to appear at a deposition. Ultimately, the charges against the older Bumb were reduced to a misdemeanor. EIGHT MONTHS AFTER its approval by the City Council, the peach-colored Bay 101 held its "grand opening." 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. It did the unthinkable: 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." 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. Now that their gaming license had been denied, a decision needed to be made--quickly. And that ain't happening because I can't afford it." Christopher Gardner FROM THE START, Jeff's three brothers and father didn't share his enthusiasm for opening a lavish gaming house. You know the school we went to?" 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. There were flowers everywhere. Seven of George Bumb Sr.'s eight grown children reside in the eastside foothills within a mile or two of their father, often on the same block. Over the years, he had developed working relationships with the city's politicians and bureaucrats. The court saga evolved into a battle of wills between a father--a man who wouldn't even let the Vatican tell him what to do--and his oldest son, determined to break free from the old man's grasp. (In one case, George Bumb Sr. loaned Jeff $31,250 in 1992 for his son to invest in Bay 101.) Werner said no. (That thing that involved Jeff when Bay 101 was scheduled to open but didn't.)" The air conditioning is on, but beads of sweat surface on Bumb's forehead, between a pair of fierce-looking blue eyes and a receding blonde hairline. 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. EVERY DAY THE CLUB stayed closed, the Bumbs lost more money. "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." 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. 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. 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 his long tenure at the Flea Market, Venzon apparently developed a close relationship with George Bumb Sr. The ensuing delay forced Jeff Bumb to lay off 600 workers he had hired. "What am I going to say to the vice president?" Seven of George Bumb Sr.'s eight grown children reside in the eastside foothills within a mile or two of their father, often on the same block. During his long tenure at the Flea Market, Venzon apparently developed a close relationship with George Bumb Sr. A nurse was present to monitor his condition. EIGHT MONTHS AFTER its approval by the City Council, the peach-colored Bay 101 held its "grand opening." It wasn't the idea of gambling. AN ATTORNEY involved likened the whole contentious affair to a divorce. In a fit, he took the paper he was writing on, crumpled it up and threw it out the office door. Privacy hasn't been so easy to come by for the Bumbs in the '90s, since they got involved in Bay 101. The teenagers had been drinking booze earlier in the night. 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. He started telling people around the office that he wanted out of the family business. And for nearly a month, they did. Within weeks, Jeff says, his six-month-old dog was dead, his cat was dead and the tires of a family car were slashed. About 20 percent of the 130 students there are Bumb relatives.) Three years ago, the Mercury News listed the Bumb family in the Top 10 of the valley's most generous political contributors. "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." But Jeff was confident. In fact, Tim and George had to agree not to collaborate with other Bumbs on any new business venture. "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. And it was very explicit in there that no Bumbs could have anything to do with the club. 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. 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. She recalled that she was dressed in shorts and a T-shirt covered by a blanket. "Hell, no," George Bumb replied. After learning of the incident, Jeff and wife Elizabeth did not report the matter to police immediately. Dealers stood at the tables, ready to deal the cards. The elder Bumb may not have been feeling well, but he wasn't too sick to remember who was boss in this family. 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. 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. 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. Before the end of the month, the Flea Market laid off Jeff's daughters Anne and Rebecca. Soon after his confession, the word started spreading in the family about what happened. "They had to find Snow White and Cinderella," Tim Bumb says, "and that was George and I." Before the end of the month, the Flea Market laid off Jeff's daughters Anne and Rebecca. Life of Brian: Initially denied a gaming license by the state, Brian Bumb has since received a provisional license and become a partner in Bay 101 with his brothers, Tim and George. Jeff signed a deal with his brothers that prohibited him from owning Bay 101 stock until he got all the necessary licenses. 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. "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." 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 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. Initially, police filed felony charges against Matthew Bumb for having oral sex with a minor and penetrating her with his fingers. 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." It wasn't the money, either. "I'm a big boy." And Brian, the handsome and gregarious youngest brother, was in charge of day-to-day operations at the Flea Market. Meanwhile, Jeff and his lawyers spent 15 months trying get his father to appear at a deposition. "He worked for me." Tim and George Jr. would appeal and reapply, the hope being that the club would open as soon as possible. "They had to find Snow White and Cinderella," Tim Bumb says, "and that was George and I." 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. Privacy hasn't been so easy to come by for the Bumbs in the '90s, since they got involved in Bay 101. Christopher Gardner She recalled that she was dressed in shorts and a T-shirt covered by a blanket. Christopher Gardner EIGHT MONTHS AFTER its approval by the City Council, the peach-colored Bay 101 held its "grand opening." When Werner broke the news that Jeff's brothers wouldn't write a letter on his behalf, he says Jeff became furious. When the Vatican eliminated Latin from the Catholic mass in the '60s, George Bumb Sr. responded by building his own chapel, named for the rebellious St. Athanasius, at the base of Mt. "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. The court saga evolved into a battle of wills between a father--a man who wouldn't even let the Vatican tell him what to do--and his oldest son, determined to break free from the old man's grasp. 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. Privacy hasn't been so easy to come by for the Bumbs in the '90s, since they got involved in Bay 101. One of George Bumb Sr.'s granddaughters explained to police that her family was very old-fashioned: "The woman gets the short end of the deal; she is a whore. But he didn't cash out. "He worked for me." In fact, Tim and George had to agree not to collaborate with other Bumbs on any new business venture. A blue knit polo shirt covers his stocky 52-year-old frame. Later, his family expanded their wealth in television broadcasting (they founded KRON! It wasn't the idea of gambling. You think this didn't break my heart?" At the time, San Jose, like cities throughout the state, was strapped for cash, looking at an $11 million budget shortfall. A nurse was present to monitor his condition. she said, referring to the family-run Catholic school at the Flea Market. Finally, in July 1994, the state cleared Tim and George and gave them a conditional OK to let the games begin. (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. And then there's the stuff that never made it into headlines, like the alleged murder-for-hire plot out at the Flea Market. On Nov. 8, 1995, attorney Albin Danell, Elizabeth's brother-in-law, contacted the police, apparently after consulting with Elizabeth. 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." He also pulled off an armed robbery of the Aloha Roller 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. It wasn't the money, either. The court saga evolved into a battle of wills between a father--a man who wouldn't even let the Vatican tell him what to do--and his oldest son, determined to break free from the old man's grasp. Toward the end of the call, things got heated. 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." The elder Bumb may not have been feeling well, but he wasn't too sick to remember who was boss in this family. So Jeff, Brian and the remaining non-family partners backed out of Bay 101, handing everything over to Tim and George Jr. "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." "They didn't teach anything about this. "And I told you that I loved you and you are like a father to me. "Could he [Jeff] do any other work on his own behalf?" 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. 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. Meanwhile, Jeff and his lawyers spent 15 months trying get his father to appear at a deposition. In fact, on the day he was arrested, records show that Venzon pawned a 14-karat-gold diamond cluster ring and a ladies' gold tennis bracelet for a total of $298 at American Precious Metals, a jewelry store at the Flea Market run by Joseph Bumb.