Fed takedowns of 2012: Yassines and Jovita's

Heroin distribution charges and cocaine convictions rock Austin clubland in this preview chapter of "Overserved"

 MONEY LAUNDERING ON DIRTY SIXTH

Land and liquor were paths to prosperity for the original Lebanese settlers, who started coming to Austin in the 1880s to avoid being drafted into the Turkish army. Catholic and patriotic, the growing clan would camp out overnight at Zilker Park to claim large sections of picnic tables on Easter and the Fourth of July.

“We were very proud of our Lebanese heritage, but we were Americans,” said Lucky Attal, whose grandfather Augustus immigrated from Tripoli in the 1890’s.

Though they held power in the fields of entertainment, fashion, real estate, retail, and politics, the “Lebanese Mafia” tag was just a joke.

It would, decades later, better fit Mike Yassine Enterprises, led by a trio of Lebanese brothers- none U.S. citizens- who dominated the Sixth Street entertainment district from the late ‘90s until a federal bust in 2012 sent ringleader Hussein Ali “Mike” Yassine and several associates to prison. At one point, the Yassines owned nine nightclubs on Sixth and vicinity.

Unlike their predecessors from Lebanon, this group had no interest in assimilating into Texas culture. Instead they drove garish Hummers and fostered a reputation for thuggish behavior, like in 1999 when they allegedly reneged on a deal to split the door with an independent promoter who packed Treasure Island with DJ Mark E. Quark. The promoter ended up getting bounced on when he, emphatically, tried to collect the $2,000 he claimed to be owed.

Citing lies on liquor license applications, plus a preponderance of underage drinking, the TABC tried to shut down the Yassine clubs, including Treasure Island, Pure, Spill, Kiss & Fly, Platinum X, Chrome and Hyde. But it took a five-year investigation of cocaine distribution by the FBI to move Yassine associates from Dirty Sixth to federal prisons. The feds charged that Yassine’s nightclubs were fronts to launder drug money. Fans of Neflix series Ozark can tell you how that works.

The entire case against the Yassine brothers was built on flipping their cousin Mohammed “Mo” Yassine in 2007. The FBI paid Mo $4,000 a month for five years to wear a wire and note improprieties. They also gave him money for cocaine and gun buys. Defense attorneys claimed entrapment, but the defendants were all found guilty. 

Paresh Patel

Mike Yassine received the longest sentence- 12 1/2 years for cocaine distribution and money laundering, with three years later tacked on for tax fraud. His brothers Hadi Yassine and Mohammed Ali “Mike” Yassine, received five and one-year sentences, respectively, followed by deportation to the Ivory Coast, the largest Lebanese diaspora community in West Africa.

Mike Yassine was also named a person of interest, though never charged, in the 2000 disappearance of Paresh Patel, his partner in the Azucar, Metro and Malagia nightclubs. Paresh, 36, known as “the Jerry Jones of Sixth Street” for his penchant for attention, as well as his business acumen, was last seen making collection rounds at those clubs on the afternoon of Sept. 25, 2000. His Lexus SUV was found that night on Airport Boulevard with the keys in the ignition.

Patel’s family owned motels in Alabama, but as a 22-year-old new Austinite, Paresh went into the dry cleaning business, buying Oxford Cleaners in 1986. His first club was Escape on Riverside and Congress in 1992. The liquor license was revoked in ‘95 when the club was caught refilling top shelf liquor bottles with cheaper booze. After that, Patel put liquor licenses in the names of associates, but that ruse was discovered after he went missing.

In a separate case years later, a member of the Texas Syndicate gang testified that they’d killed Patel and buried him in the foundation of the HEB in Buda, which was under construction from May to December 2000. Yassine associate Alejandro Melendrez, convicted of selling cocaine to Mo Yassine, had ties to the Syndicate, said investigators. Patel has never been found.

JOVITA’S WAS BUILT ON COMMUNITY, FUELED BY HEROIN

A more stunning criminal investigation rocked the Austin music community the morning of June 22, 2012, when the news broke that Jovita’s, a live music venue (with passable Mexican food) on South First for 20 years, had been raided and shut down as a heroin distribution hub. After a yearlong investigation by the FBI and APD dubbed “Operation Muerte Blanca,” owner Amando “Mayo” Pardo was named ringleader, with 14 of his associates also arrested. Authorities said Pardo, who served three prison sentences in the ‘70s and ‘80s, including two for murder, was a member of the Texas Syndicate gang.

After the shock came the jokes about “addictive tacos” and “jonesing for Jovi’s hot sauce.” Even humor-allergic Texas Monthly got into the yuks, writing, “Would you like some black tar heroin with your enchiladas?”

The public had no idea Pardo was selling up to $6 K a day in skag, because he was seen as an impassioned community leader, who used his business to host fundraisers, spearhead voter registration efforts and promote Mexican American pride and unity. His stage also put about $100,000 a year into the pockets of working Austin musicians. The hypocrisy that this tough, yet caring man would destroy families for a living was astounding. But the Texas Syndicate is not a club you can quit.

One way drug dealers raise suspicion is when neighbors see a lot of cars coming and going at all hours and notify police. But Pardo’s dealers just parked at the restaurant and walked across a little bridge to Milton Street, where he owned a house. Occasionally, the restaurant was used to cut and package the heroin in balloons, which wholesaled in packs of 18, but most of the illicit activity was on Milton, according to police. Pardo’s two operations- the legal and the criminal- were separated by East Bouldin Creek and, perhaps, his mindset.

“Mayo was constantly upgrading the place,” said Cornell Hurd, whose 10-piece band played there every Thursday for 14 years. Jovita’s sound system was one of the best Don Walser (Tuesdays) ever yodeled through.

But to show Pardo was two people, he’d drive Jovita’s kitchen worker Tatiana Huang to college each day after her shift, but at night use her to cut and package heroin. When Huang went to trial in Feb. 2013, her attorney said she was an addict, not a dealer, who needed rehab, not prison. She received a four-year sentence.

Mayo Pardo died of liver cancer in January 2013 at age 64, a month before the trial, proclaiming his innocence to the end. He had been diagnosed two years earlier and was improving due to holistic treatments, but seven months in jail “was a death sentence,” according to Hurd. Pardo was denied bail until he was sent home to die three days later.

Mayo was raised in the same part of South Austin as the restaurant/bar he named after his sister. He was a neighborhood tough who, in 1971, gunned down a pair of cousins at Motif Lounge on South First (later G&S Lounge). Because the main eyewitness walked back earlier testimony, a 22-year-old Pardo was able to plead guilty to one of the murders for a 12-year sentence that ended up being four years served. A gun charge sent him back to the joint for three years. Then another murder, in Houston in 1983, put him behind bars for another four years.

The FBI claimed Pardo’s life as a heroin dealer started with his ‘87 release. Five years later, he was able to buy the former Big Ben’s Sandwiches property at 1619 S. First St., putting the title of the land in the name of wife Amanda and the business in sister Jovita’s. Mayo’s place opened in Dec. 1992 with Johnny Degollado, Lisa Mednick, and David Rodriguez (with young daughter Carrie on violin). The Tailgators were the first big regular draw, setting the stage for many roots rockers to follow.

After Henry’s Bar & Grill (6317 Burnet Road) closed on Halloween 1992 to make way for an Auto Zone, that hardcore country scene followed Don Walser and Cornell Hurd to Jovita’s.

After a few years, Pardo decided to start a Jovita’s label and hired Sam Loy as his engineer. The first CD on the label was The Vanguards Live at Jovita’s, recorded a month before drummer John “Mambo” Treaner passed away from cancer. Loy said he got along well with Pardo at first, but the relationship soon withered. “I could eat for free, so I’d have one crispy taco a day,” Loy recalled. “Mayo lit into me over it, saying ‘You just come here to eat my food!’ He’d say ‘my dishwasher could do your job!’ It was that Machiavellian thing about controlling people by never letting them feel like they have any importance.” Loy said Mayo’s bible was The Prince.

Others knew a different Pardo. “Mayo and I were about as close as any two people could be,” said Brad Reed, who booked Jovita’s during it’s mid- ‘90s/early ‘00s glory years. “We were like father and son, and not one time did I see any evidence of what he was accused of doing.” Hurd testified to the same thing in court.

Reed started working for Pardo just two years out of Crockett High School. “I got a job at Grizwald’s, next door to Jovita’s, so I got know everybody there,” said Reed, who helped original booker Raul Salinas for a year before Mayo gave him the job in ‘93. “This was during the rockabilly, retro-country heyday so we booked High Noon, Dale Watson, Wayne “the Train” Hancock, Marti Brom, Madcat Trio, Junior Brown- those kinda bands,” in addition to the popular Walser/Hurd residencies.

“But, by far, our biggest band was the Gourds. They would play once every two or three months and it was crazy,” Reed recalled. This was before 2000’s Bolsa de Agua made them outgrow the room. “The bar would run out of beer and I’d have to sell it out of our walk-in cooler.”

Pardo was a straight-shooter who carried himself as a guy you didn’t want to mess with, but that was part of his appeal. Especially when he seemed such a pussycat deep down. Mayo was the music scene’s Danny Trejo, which is fitting because the company of Robert Rodriguez (who’s directed Trejo in several projects) bought the land at 1619 South First in 2022, with plans for a four-story residential building, with retail on the ground floor.