Luellen Smiley is a creative nonfiction writer, author, columnist, and historian whose writing is deeply rooted in a controversial personal history. She is the daughter of Allen Smiley, a close friend, associate, and business partner of notorious Las Vegas gangster Benjamin “Bugsy” Siegel. Her father was sitting only feet from Siegel when Siegel was murdered in Beverly Hills on June 20, 1947.
That extraordinary childhood history became the foundation for Smiley’s first book, Cradle of Crime: A Daughter’s Tribute, published in 2017. The memoir explores what it was like to grow up as the daughter of a man connected to organized crime while trying to reconcile her love for her father with the secrecy, fear, and criminal world surrounding him.
Smiley’s work has appeared in publications including the New York Post, MORE Magazine, Southern California newspapers, and Authorlink. She wrote the newspaper column Smiley’s Dice—Adventures in Livingness, which earned a Blue-Ribbon Award from the California Newspapers Association for her Growing Up With Gangsters columns.
Her interest in her father’s history also led her to become a researcher and commentator on organized crime history. She has participated in television, radio, and documentary interviews.
Smiley’s next book, Gaslighting Greta, will be published this year. A personal story that reads like fiction. Her own website describes the project as exploring a woman whose life is destabilized by gaslighting and psychological manipulation.
Her writing career reflects a recurring theme: using personal experience and research to uncover the truth behind complicated relationships and extraordinary lives. From the secretive world surrounding her father and Bugsy Siegel to the deeply personal territory of Gaslighting Greta, Smiley’s work transforms difficult experiences into stories of survival, discovery, and ultimately reclaiming one’s voice.
Luellen Smiley is an author whose life has given her an unusual perspective on secrecy, manipulation, family loyalty, betrayal, and survival—and she uses that perspective as the raw material for her nonfiction storytelling.
THE RATTLER
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SOMETIMES I GET MY PRIMITIVE MOOD, which unfortunately gets easier and easier as time goes. I pack my little belt sack with water and a bag if Frito’s (and i love my freakin Fritos) and off to the desert i go, just to see my little friends that scurry around out there in a World that time forgot. One day i was up on the Mesa, before dropping down into the desert and i looked down into this ravine far below me and saw a rather sandy looking area with 3 poles sticking up. It was to far to make out exactly what it was, but looked like it needed to be explored. So i climb down this rocky hillside past all those beautiful desert plants and cactus in bloom and follow the waterfall area down as i made my way to those posts.
As i rounded a turn, there in front of me were the posts i had seen. All in a row, extremely weathered and about 5 feet tall. One had a metal sign on it from the State saying that proceeding past that point could be hazardous to your health and to not proceed as it was against the law. The next post over, someone had stuck the full headed mask of a gorilla on it, all weathered and cracked with the fake hair a burnt red…..the next post had nothing.
You probably already know that nothing inspires me more to proceed that a sign that says, KEEP OUT. Especially one that has the word DANGER on it. That, and the Gorilla mask said, this could be a very exciting hike. So off i go, rounding the posts and alternately climbing down boulders, waterfalls and along sandy washes as i made way down to the desert floor. I came across an oasis with Palm trees and reeds with some water and i kept going. Just a beautiful day. The wind I could hear as it brushed past the fronds. Continuing on for another mile or so, i came across a small stream that meandered along a beachy type area with sand that spread out for almost 20 feet. In the sand by the stream i could see the little feet prints of the creatures that come for water. It was surreal down in there. No trace of civilization. As I’m walking along, just as i stumble on a rock protruding up from the sand i hear that familiar rattling noise that I’ve heard before. At that point, i was already loosing my balance and falling over and there was nothing i could do, but put out my arms to brace the impact on the ground. I had no idea where the snake was…..all I knew was that it was way to close and i was just hopping i didn’t land on top of it. So I hit the ground and i don’t hear the rattle anymore and I’m thinking I must have been hearing things. I slowly lift myself up and peek over this small boulder and there it was, right freaking next to me, all coiled up and ready to strike, eye level, but oddly enough, not rattling. So i stand up and we both just checked each other out. Then i made my way back up the wash and waterfalls and back to my car. I was thinking later, that maybe that empty 3rd post had some type of meaning…………………..
One response to “THE RATTLER”
Oh my………
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