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Bobby Genova and Theodore Rothstein entered porn about the same time - 1956, before the beginnings of the modern industry, and at the same place - 42nd Street in New York.

In 1965, Genova introduced Howie Wasserman to the business. In 1980, Genova moved to California with his partners Teddy Snyder and Bobby Hollander. "We found out that it was 6-8% cheaper to do our lab work [film reproduction] here in California with the big labs with "quad printing" - four up, 35mm. New York was all two up, and 16mm.

"We only shot film up through mid '80s… Now everyone is a shooter…

During the '80s and early '90s, Genova gave John Stagliano, Rodney Moore and Max Hardcore their beginnings in porn.

3/16/99:

Director Greg Steel on why he left LBO: "Bob Genova (LBO owner) is broke and continually bounced checks to us [Steel and Mike South]. Compunded with the fact he is hiding from all incoming phone calls fearing they are collectors which was happening on a hourly basis there and is INTENSE paranoia brought on by the constant pot smoking which leaves him stoned outta control accusing everyone around him of doing deals behind his pack to take over his imense empire of debts and unpaid bills. Bob is the kind of guy if he fell out of a boat he would definitely miss the water and blame you for it. We leave him to run his empire alone...or at least till they throw him out of his office which is some months behind in rent....Best of luck to ya pal, I'm sure the story in your head is the opposite of reality, but if you'd just stop the dope you wouldn't be one."

Luke phoned Bobby Genova at LBO who answered "no comment" to  every question.

From the 8/20/89 LA Times article about the violent death of Bobby's longtime partner Ted Snyder by John Johnson and Michael Connelly:

Amid the loose papers and frayed girlie posters of a bankrupt porn empire, Bob Genova telephoned a business acquaintance in Philadelphia with the latest news.

"You hear what they did to my partner?" asked Genova, whose video company had earned a reputation for B-movie porn.

"They killed him," he boomed in a nasal voice that echoed into the hallway outside his office, where a visitor waited to see him. "It's hard to figure. I'm all by myself now. They're whittling me down."

Three weeks after Teddy Snyder's body was found punctured by nine bullets in a quiet San Fernando Valley neighborhood, the death of the balding pornographer with a taste for gold chains, leisure suits and luxury cars remains a mystery to police and to Snyder's colleagues in Los Angeles' billion-dollar adult film industry.

A law-enforcement investigator familiar with the case said the killing had the appearance of an organized crime-style hit. Court records show that the Northridge company Snyder founded, Video Cassette Recordings Inc., owed money to a company allegedly controlled by a man linked by federal prosecutors to an East Coast crime family. And VCR's offices have been searched as part of an ongoing investigation by a state and local law-enforcement task force probing organized crime links to the porn business.

Whatever the reason for Snyder's death, Genova is shedding no tears for his partner, calling him a drug abuser and creep who did not care about their failing business.

Competition and falling prices for adult videotapes have thinned the ranks of what once was a legion of porn film makers and distributors. One of those tottering on the brink is VCR, which churned out dozens of successful porn tapes in the early 1980s but was forced last year to file for reorganization under bankruptcy laws. Snyder, 47, was suspended in June by a bankruptcy trustee, and friends said he was depressed about his future.

Industry experts regard Snyder as a pioneer not because he was an innovator but because he was there at the beginning. In the late 1960s, the girlie business was so informal that loop makers often sold their products out of their station wagons, according to an industry expert. Negatives were often dumped for fear of the police.

Forming a succession of companies-Mark IV Productions, Mark V Productions and VCR Inc.-Snyder continued to make money, associates said. He drove a Rolls-Royce and took friends flying in his seven-seat airplane.

During the video boom of the early '80s, Los Angeles police said, Snyder was a major producer and distributor of pornography-one of 34 in the city. But within the industry, Snyder acquired a reputation as a schlockmeister.

Snyder's companies produced "low-class compilation tapes," said William Margold, an X-rated actor, producer and unofficial industry spokesman. There were "Screaming Desire," "Naked Night" and a series of "How To" tapes that moved home-video instruction courses out of the kitchen and into the bedroom.

Later, when porn revenues were declining, Snyder and his associates made ill-fated ventures into the distribution of educational tapes for children-a bankruptcy attorney said some of their porn tapes were mistakenly distributed in children's tape boxes-and R-rated action thrillers such as "Bodysnatchers From Hell."

In the X-rated industry, Snyder's New York accent, the gold ring with "Ted" spelled out in diamonds, his cigars and cowboy hats became trademarks. He liked going to the race track. He called most of the people he met "kid." When filming a porn video, he often removed his diamond ring and gave it to one of the actors to wear as a glitzy prop.

The court records show that members of the task force, formed in 1986 to quietly investigate organized crime involvement in pornography, believe that VCR was one of several video companies that received $850,000 worth of videotape that was distributed by Taccetta's company, Ollinor Video.

Pamela D. Ferrero, a deputy district attorney, said Ollinor, which is no longer in business, is suspected of receiving the unused tape from a Korean manufacturer without paying for it, then supplying it to friends of Taccetta's who operate porn-video companies.

"The buddies were then supposed to pay him," she said of Taccetta. But Genova and Snyder's companies, which received more than $100,000 worth of tape from Ollinor, went bankrupt without paying their debt, she said.

Authorities track Taccetta's organized crime ties to New Jersey, where his older brother, Michael Taccetta, is a high-ranking member of the Lucchese crime family, said Assistant U. S. Atty. Grady O'Malley in Newark. "Martin was basically his right-hand man who engaged in certain activities outside of New Jersey," O'Malley said.

Both Taccettas were among 20 defendants acquitted of racketeering charges last year in Newark in what was the longest federal organized crime trial in U. S. history. Nonetheless, authorities remain convinced that the Taccettas are involved in organized crime and, according to court documents, believe that Martin Taccetta "has been trying to establish himself in the adult video business in Los Angeles" since 1983.

According to court documents, other ties between Taccetta and VCR included a check for $2,000-dated Dec. 29, 1987-that was written on a VCR account to Marty Taccetta and stamped with Robert Genova's signature.

The affidavits also said Joseph Abinanti, a former VCR sales executive, handled the payroll for one of Taccetta's companies in Los Angeles. Court records say that while Taccetta was under surveillance, task force members saw him meet on social occasions with Abinanti, whose "godfather," according to law enforcement sources, is a top-ranking Lucchese crime family member.

Efforts to locate Taccetta and Abinanti for comment were unsuccessful. But Genova scoffed at the idea of mob influence in his business.

"That's unbelievable," he said. He said he only met Taccetta two or three times and "didn't know who the guy was."

Genova declined to discuss his partner's death at length or the telephone conversation overheard by a reporter at his office. He said that, like the police, he did not know who killed Teddy Snyder.

Those who knew Snyder speculated that his expensive drug habit caused his downfall. "Nowadays, there are so many drug deals that go awry," Genova said.

***

In July 1998, Bobby forgot about his interview with the LA TIMES, claiming that he had never given any interview, except to Detective Phil Vannatta and his partner who investigated the Snyder case. "I knew that I was a logical suspect. Two days after the shooting, I walked into my warehouse. And along comes this big Mercury Marquee. These two detectives came out. They introduced themselves. They made an appointment to come over to my house at 7PM on Friday evening. These guys thoughts that because of drugs, sex, mafia… They had a high profile case. I knew their theory was cockameini. They were bumbling and fumbling. Then six months later they arrest the wife."

From the 1/24/90 LA TIMES by AMY LOUISE KAZMIN:

Discarding theories of a Mafia execution, authorities now believe that slain pornographer Theodore J. Snyder, a flamboyant figure whose video company churned out dozens of money-making sex videotapes in the early 1980s, was killed by a social acquaintance hired by his wife.

Sharon Snyder, 39, of Woodland Hills, and Victor Diaz, 47, were charged in San Fernando Municipal Court with first-degree murder for allegedly killing Snyder on Aug. 1. They were also charged with the special allegation that they killed for financial gain, which means prosecutors may seek the death penalty.

According to the district attorney's complaint against them, Sharon Snyder offered Diaz $20,000 to kill her husband so that she could inherit their property.

Los Angeles Police Detective Kirk Mellecker said he could not estimate the value of Teddy Snyder's personal holdings. Although his company had filed for reorganization under bankruptcy laws, Snyder led a luxurious life. He drove a Rolls-Royce, frequently took friends flying in his seven-seat airplane and wore gold and diamond jewelry.

Sharon Snyder and Diaz are also each charged with one count of conspiracy with an unnamed third party, and Diaz faces one count of possession of a machine gun.

Snyder, 47, was shot four times from the front and five times in the back with a .380-caliber Mac II submachine gun near his parked car in Northridge.

Initially, the style of the killing led authorities to speculate that it was an organized crime "hit." Snyder's Northridge video company, Video Cassette Recordings, had gone bankrupt in 1988 and owed money to a company linked by federal prosecutors to an East Coast crime family.

Others, noting the vial of cocaine found in his hand, said that Snyder, regarded as a heavy cocaine user, probably met his death in a drug deal gone awry.

But the investigation took a new direction in December after Ventura

County law enforcement officials arrested William Fisher in an unrelated investigation. Port Hueneme police were investigating drug sales in their city and followed a suspect, not Fisher, to a Simi Valley residence where Fisher, 35, lived, said Sgt. Dennis Fitzgerald.

In late November, authorities raided the property and arrested Fisher on misdemeanor drug charges. He was later arrested again for violating the conditions of a federal parole by associating with a convicted felon, and is currently in federal custody in Los Angeles, authorities said.

Police found undisclosed evidence linking Fisher to the Snyder killing during the November raid and contacted Los Angeles detectives. Fisher then gave investigators information about the killing, authorities said.

According to the San Fernando court complaint, after Sharon Snyder offered Diaz $20,000 to kill her husband, Diaz offered Fisher $20,000 to commit an unspecified murder. Fisher later helped Diaz obtain the submachine gun which authorities believe Diaz used to shoot Teddy Snyder, the complaint stated.

***

Genova: "She [Sharon]was in jail for 18 months because she couldn't make bail. Then she won her case."

In 1990, Bobby Genova founded LBO.

"Henry Hill was an old friend of mine. The Martin Scorsese movie Goodfellas was based on Henry Hill."

From Magill's Survey of Cinema:

Ever since he was a child, Henry Hill (Ray Liotta) wanted to be a gangster. Everything about life in the Mafia appealed to him. These were men who saw what they wanted and took it. They never wasted their time pursuing the American Dream; they lived it. The young half-Irish, half-Sicilian Hill (Christopher Serrone) worked his way up through the ranks of the neighborhood Brooklyn gang run by Paulie Cicero (Paul Sorvino). Even at an early age, the smart and resourceful Henry basked in the power and the illusion of influence that came from his association with these gangsters. When Henry takes his first "fall like a man, " the respected Jimmy Conway (Robert De Niro), a "goodfella" who loved to steal, conveys to his young protege the following ethics: "Never rat on your friends and always keep your mouth shut."

By the time he was twenty-one, Henry was ensconced in mob life, seduced by its adolescent glamour. He belonged to a family that seemed to care about him and encouraged his indulgences: the socializing, the money, and the thrill of living life on the edge. It was an intoxicating journey into another world, and Henry reveled in the power and the celebrity status that came with being a "wiseguy." His wife, Karen (Lorraine Bracco), is naively seduced by material excess and later defends the actions of the brotherhood as merely "blue-collar guys who could only make a few extra bucks by cutting a few corners." Before long the Jewish Karen is describing amounts of money in inches with her fingers and rewarding her husband with oral sex. It was, as Henry tells us, "a glorious time."

When the psychotic and volatile Tommy (Joe Pesci) senselessly kills a mob member (Frank Vincent), whom he should have obtained special permission to murder, or "whack," Henry begins to realize that the "rules" of the game may not carry the same weight for the others. The self-deluding Henry's faith is further eroded when a twist of fate lands him in prison. He realizes that only the "wiseguys" themselves are looked after properly and, in an attempt to sustain Karen's accustomed life-style, the resourceful Henry begins supplying drugs to the other convicts.