bumb family san jose net worth

Well, guess what? 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. Soon after his confession, the word started spreading in the family about what happened. She recalled that she was dressed in shorts and a T-shirt covered by a blanket. 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. And then, just when it seemed as though family relations couldn't get any worse, they did. 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. 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. But Jeff was confident. 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." Christopher Gardner The couple even had a purchase contract for a $850,000 house on Golf Links Road. But his dream, which now seemed so close to being a reality, was about to become a nightmare. 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. 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. It's like we had no life except for the family." "Jeff is a wheeler and dealer," explained his Uncle John, the Flea Market's executive vice president and owner of the Skeeball Arcade. 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. "The thing they probably value most is their privacy," Bryant explains. "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." 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. Ultimately, the charges against the older Bumb were reduced to a misdemeanor. Over the years, he had developed working relationships with the city's politicians and bureaucrats. Today, Bumb family enterprises include the local Premium Pet Stores chain, Air One Helicopters and, of course, Bay 101. Jeff tells the story differently: "Matthew was my godson. Christopher Gardner The track is a universe removed from where he started, a world away from the relative obscurity of picking up scrap metal around San Jose back in the 1960s with his father. But Jeff says the loan dispute screwed up their moving plans. "It's making a whole lot of money," Bumb says of the club which city financial forecasters have predicted will gross $34.6 million this year, $11.5 million more than its cross-town rival, Garden City. Werner said no. 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. Werner said no. 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. Near the end Venzon writes, "They want to bring up the 'murder-for-hire' investigation again. He was also the kind of guy, police records reveal, who told his mother about the incidents "because he felt guilty." The district attorney's office says that Bumb attorney Ron Werner turned the letter over to authorities immediately after it came in the mail. 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. she said, referring to the family-run Catholic school at the Flea Market. (Tim Bumb, the school's director, says it was put there to save on rent. 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 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." attorney Frank Ubhaus asked the Bumb patriarch. He can't ignore it. Along the way, Jeff raised the ante, hiring Frank Ubhaus, a lawyer who represented Garden City card club, Bay 101's crosstown rival. The elder Bumb may not have been feeling well, but he wasn't too sick to remember who was boss in this family. 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. Toward the end of the call, things got heated. On Nov. 8, 1995, attorney Albin Danell, Elizabeth's brother-in-law, contacted the police, apparently after consulting with Elizabeth. "I don't need their help," he barked at Werner. 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. But Jeff says the loan dispute screwed up their moving plans. George Bumb Sr., an avid card player, held a regular weekly family poker game at his home. "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 teenagers had been drinking booze earlier in the night. Within weeks, Jeff says, his six-month-old dog was dead, his cat was dead and the tires of a family car were slashed. 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. And there were gamblers everywhere who had come looking for some action. The couple even had a purchase contract for a $850,000 house on Golf Links Road. "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 elder Bumb may not have been feeling well, but he wasn't too sick to remember who was boss in this family. Toward the end of the call, things got heated. 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 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. 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 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. The two, she said, never talked about what was going on while it was happening. 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. Soon after his confession, the word started spreading in the family about what happened. 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. 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. 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. Well, guess what? 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. On Nov. 8, 1995, attorney Albin Danell, Elizabeth's brother-in-law, contacted the police, apparently after consulting with Elizabeth. "Hell, no," George Bumb replied. He demanded $10 million from his brothers to compensate him for violating the purported secret Bay 101 deal. 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. Initially, police filed felony charges against Matthew Bumb for having oral sex with a minor and penetrating her with his fingers. "It's a very strong family. Well, guess what? Well, guess what? But he didn't cash out. 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. "It made you tough, made you get a thick skin." Of the four brothers, Tim and George had faced the least resistance from state gaming officials. Matthew is the kind of guy a relative described to police as "polite," the guy parents wanted their daughters to date. Jeff tells the story differently: "Matthew was my godson. And as with any divorce, embarrassing private details about the family and its businesses made their way into the public record. 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. But Jeff says the loan dispute screwed up their moving plans. "Jeff is a wheeler and dealer," explained his Uncle John, the Flea Market's executive vice president and owner of the Skeeball Arcade. 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. But his dream, which now seemed so close to being a reality, was about to become a nightmare. Eight months later, the frame of the weapon was found in a Salinas pond near Venzon's home with the barrel and slide missing. And Brian, the handsome and gregarious youngest brother, was in charge of day-to-day operations at the Flea Market. Over the years, he had developed working relationships with the city's politicians and bureaucrats. 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. And Jeff himself had been playing poker since he was 12. Along the way, Jeff raised the ante, hiring Frank Ubhaus, a lawyer who represented Garden City card club, Bay 101's crosstown rival. 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. OK--we didn't get out--OK? EVERY DAY THE CLUB stayed closed, the Bumbs lost more money. Jeff tells the story differently: "Matthew was my godson. Three years ago, the Mercury News listed the Bumb family in the Top 10 of the valley's most generous political contributors. 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. Meanwhile, Jeff and his lawyers spent 15 months trying get his father to appear at a deposition. During his long tenure at the Flea Market, Venzon apparently developed a close relationship with George Bumb Sr. 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. 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. 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. 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. 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. "They didn't teach anything about this. Near the end Venzon writes, "They want to bring up the 'murder-for-hire' investigation again. The Bumbs' reputation as an unconventional, insular, wealthy, large brood keeps tongues in political circles flapping. He demanded $10 million from his brothers to compensate him for violating the purported secret Bay 101 deal. After learning of the incident, Jeff and wife Elizabeth did not report the matter to police immediately. Or at least he thought he didn't. When Werner broke the news that Jeff's brothers wouldn't write a letter on his behalf, he says Jeff became furious. Snow White or Cinderella? Ultimately, the charges against the older Bumb were reduced to a misdemeanor. 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. He was also the kind of guy, police records reveal, who told his mother about the incidents "because he felt guilty." 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. Christopher Gardner At the time, San Jose, like cities throughout the state, was strapped for cash, looking at an $11 million budget shortfall. The couple even had a purchase contract for a $850,000 house on Golf Links Road. Well, guess what? 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." But he didn't cash out. His crimes included taking valuables from the bereaved family members of dead crime victims while pretending to console them. "They didn't teach anything about this. Ultimately, the charges against the older Bumb were reduced to a misdemeanor. Almost four months later, on July 21, 1998, George Bumb Sr. appeared in the downtown offices of Berliner Cohen to have his deposition taken. The two, she said, never talked about what was going on while it was happening.

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