Chippendales True Crime Story

By Jesse Banerjee and Thomas R Kennedy

The web of lies thickens, and the night beckons! Waking up in the middle of the night, Jesse calms his heartbeat, his mind burning with one query, and his curiosity knowing no bounds! 

He can still remember the carrion, the scent of blood, and the mutilated corpse of his father in the jail. Shadows whisper to him, uttering threats and he knows if he goes down this path, he would have to face death itself…maybe if he is lucky, a bullet to his arm is all he would take…or perhaps he would join his father! 

Meet Jesse Banerjee, the firstborn of Steve Banerjee, the unrelenting son who is hell-bent on proving that his father's alleged suicide wasn't a self-killing act, born out of fear of the life sentence but rather something more sinister. No matter what the jury said, he could read between lines. And now, he realizes that someone powerful is behind his father's untimely demise. And if Jesse doesn't give up this path, he would soon meet a fate very grim… 

Join Jesse who embarks on a journey to uncover the criminal faces behind the masks! Death is behind him, and if he is lucky, it will not catch him unaware and swiftly...that is if he is careful.

Many stories have been told about Chippendales, all of them are mostly the narratives of the perpetrators that stole the empire, and cleverly they have managed to make their story very believable and credible. 

Silenced by intimidation, threats, and a corrupt Justice system, not anymore.

 For the first time, Jesse is revealing the true story in Chippendales True Crime.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Possh
• Release date: Mar 31, 2022
• ISBN: 9798791697707

Book preview

CHIPPENDALES

TRUE CRIME STORY

JESSE BANERJEE

&

THOMAS R. KENNEDY

ChippendalesTrueCrimeStory.com

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Chippendales True Crime Story. Published by www.bowtielegacy.com

CHIPPENDALES TRUE CRIME STORY .

No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical or electronic, including photo- copying or recording or by any informational storage and retrieval system, or transmitted by email without permission in writing from the author.

Copyright © 2021 Jesse Banerjee & Thomas R. Kennedy   All rights reserved.

ISBN: 9798823953276

Acknowledgements

First of all, thank you to my mother who has changed. She is a big part of our lives. Thank you to you mi Madre for your kindness and giving me life.

To my beloved father, to the great times we had dining out and for being true when I was with you. An imperfect father to many but excellent for me, for sharing his vision, his thoughts, that were just for me and not given to anyone but me, preparing to be self-mademan, and for letting his legacy live in me. A force that has no explanation. He never showed me to lie or cheat, he was a hard-working businessman who was envied by many, a true natural, a straight shooter.

He was a man who did not stop perusing his dreams and goals. He never mentioned his wife, just like many wealthy men who basically buy a trophy wife, but nothing more away from reality, my stepmother was nothing close to a trophy wife, the photos tell it all.

To my beautiful wife, who has shown me so much, and our lovely children. I want also mentioned my family in Guadalajara who mean everything.

To my teenage friends who I still have close contact. Thank you for supporting me in anyway. You helped me and I truly appropriate it. Your knowledge of pop culture, molded me in so many ways. It was truly amazing to have experienced a rich diverse subculture, thank you. I see you like family, I would not change it for anything in this world. 

This is for all my nightclub friends from the underground scene and DJ’s. You have been part of a journey that was of amazing after-hours and great day parties, seven days a week. We pioneered the best EDM and left a legacy.

To my closest friend Frank, promoter buddy. Thank you for being genuine, I am truly sorry for not being a better friend, but you can count on me now. For sharing the love for our SubCulture, music and the scene..

To my Jewish-Ukrainian good friend, my Persian Friends who showed me their culture and introduce me to their families, my Arab friends, the Haddad’sRIP Munir Samer Haddad, you will be always remembered we had amazing adventures in our young SubCulture Lifestyles. Armenian friends who want John Marshal High, to my crew Oscar, Orlando, David, and Osmond who were there in my life in times of my father's passing and witness true nightlife entertainment, going out seven days a week.

To the industry of Nightlife, much respect and appreciation to the nightclub owners and nightclub promoters, who gave me the opportunity to learn and have the best times of my life. Jerry, Dennis, Bobby, Luis, and Ralph. And to all the street promoters I worked with, all my love.

And to my good friend, the fierce visionary of fashion, the most talented and well-known in the industry the one and only  Celebrity stylist, and the queen of Melrose, COSMO. Thanks for your great friendship, and great food. You know we stand by your side in bad and good times.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Introduction..........................................9

Chapter One........................................15

Chapter Two........................................19

Chapter Three......................................28

Chapter Four.......................................41

Chapter Five........................................47

Chapter Six.........................................57

Chapter Seven......................................63

Chapter Eight.......................................71

Chapter Nine.......................................76

Chapter Ten........................................84

Chapter Eleven....................................117

Chapter Twelve....................................169

Chapter Thirteen..................................175

Chapter Fourteen..................................183

Chapter Fifteen....................................192

Chapter Sixteen...................................199

Chapter Seventeen................................207

Chapter Eighteen..................................216

Chapter Nineteen.................................222

Chapter Twenty...................................226

Chapter Twenty-One..............................237

Chapter Twenty-Two..............................241

Chapter Twenty-Three.............................259

Epilogue...........................................263

INTRODUCTION

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When two people get together and make a baby, even if it’s a planned pregnancy, the destiny of the child can’t be controlled or determined by either of the parents. Once the baby’s journey begins on earth, many believe that fate orders the course of events.

As fate would have it Jesse would be born a Banerjee. And the course his life traveled isn’t something he would have chosen for himself. But the sequence of events that has happened in Jesse Banerjee’s life, the rightful heir to Chippendales, is the kind of fascinating stories we love to be entertained by at the movies.

Those of you that may even know of who Steve Banerjee, the creator of the famous male exotic dance club that would spawn into a touring dance troupe, becoming world renown, probably haven’t heard that he had another son. Well, this is the story of how that son was swindled out of his inheritance, and how he wouldn’t give up until he got what was rightfully his.

Steve Banerjee’s brainchild idea changed the culture forever, the ultimate coming out party for women. Women, bored with just being house wives, now had their exclusive way to decompress. They could finally let their hair done a little at an exhibition strictly designed for their desires.

Steve’s show highlighted the first all-male strippers, making a business out of men performing for women. Some women of the 80s were owning their own sexuality and needed more than a vibrator to fulfill their feminine imagination. This spectacle also became the ultimate foreplay for even faithful wives. The trademark bowtie, collar and tuxedo shirt cuff on naked, muscular physiques, wearing barely more than a smile through choreographed dance moves, helped legitimize people taking their clothes off in front of an audience. And this public display of the male genitalia covered only by a G-string hasn’t ceased to amaze women for decades.

Broadway-styled burlesque shows all over the world were produced to mimick this affair. It was an explosion that caused many to rethink their intellectual property rights for select consumer products ranging from apparel and accessories to slot machines and video games. It was the new fabric for riveting talk TV in the 80’s.

A multi-million dollar theater and lounge has been built for this event at the Rio All Suite Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas. This show performs in more than a hundred cities, seen by millions across the globe. This male striptease performance was and is called Chippendales.

But Chippendales wasn’t an overnight success as some might think. Its empire was built one brick at a time or one piece of male clothing flying toward a passionate female at a time. The dance revue would gyrate into the imaginations and hearts of women all over the world.

But Steve Banerjee’s life would end tragicly – found hung in a prison cell. ABC television released a docuseries on September 24, 2021 called Curse of the Chippendales. This could have very well been the title of Jesse’s story. His life has been one big curse since his dad’s death. Steve’s ex-wife, Irene, then her sister, Helen, who after Irene’s death became executrix of the estate with her FBI husband, has continually skirted around giving Jesse his inheritance. Those that have profited from

manipulation, deceit, fraud, forgery, that also remain in control, were not about to relinquish their wealth to Jesse, or even share it with him.

The Curse of the Chippendales tells of the sordid saga, painting a picture of glamour, dancing, sex, heartbreak, possible assassinations, and actual murder. Steve’s brilliant idea to exploit the untapped female libido market was a grand slam but how his fortune got distributed amongst people that doesn’t have Banerjee blood in their remains a mystery. And how did an FBI agent get to share in his estate?

Jesse’s relentless pursuit for over 30 years would finally get him his day in court and after the court considered all the testimony, the judge would proclaim him the administrator of the Steve Banerjee estate. But this story still doesn’t have a happy ending. His search continues for where the treasure is hidden.

Encompassed within these pages are actual court transcripts, confessions, and undisclosed FBI files that will explain how for decades the perpetrators have gotten away with deceit and treachery. Their scheme wasn’t uncovered or exposed by any lawyer or judge for years.

Imagine yourself as a private investigator or an investigative reporter as you follow the money trail, one thread of evidence leading to other clues as you join Jesse in this hunt for the missing treasure. This trip takes you on a tour through our justice system. You’ll witness how difficult it is for a poor person without adequate representation by lawyers to get through the legal wrangling of court procedures. You’ll learn how the rich can subvert the law and get away with it. And the type of wealthy people we’re talking about don’t pay any consequences.

Gaining all of this information about the rich and powerful would take the work of a top, notch private investigators but Jesse accomplished it mostly by himself. All the never-seen-before evidence that he’s accumulated over almost thirty years are in the exhibit section of this book. These pages are filled with the information of how he

pierced their veil, piecing together this conspiracy like you would a jigsaw puzzle.

A copy of the original filing of the Easebe corporation is amongst many other documents. You’ll read about the first thread of evidence that started his wheels to turning, the fact that there was no original will, then suddenly a copy of the will appeared.

Lawyers that were supposed to be working for him, were either incompetent or paid to keep him in the dark. He persevered even with friends and family telling him he had lost his mind. He sacrificed money that his kids needed for food and clothing to pay lawyers and still has a rather large bill with a law firm.

Filled with deception, fraud and miles of intrigue that stretches as far away as Zurich, Geneva, Belgium and the small country of Luxembourg, the true story will leave you astonished at how far some will go to fulfill their greed. The money trail leading to a shell corporation in Panama, a hub for U.S. and European banks to avoid red flags on unscrupulous business dealings will open your eyes to a world that many have only heard of in conspiracy theories.

Just think of the mental anguish of a person that knew he was supposed to be a millionaire – millions with his name on it, but yet he couldn’t obtain it because the people that had control of it, even to the point of committing criminal acts, refused to relinquish it.

This lead to Jesse having a pain worse than you can ever know, becoming even physical after so many sleepless nights and watching his family struggle when they shouldn’t have been.

Some people wonder how it would feel to walk in other shoes. How do you think you would feel if you were Jesse Banerjee, heir of a throne you couldn’t sat on? As you read Jesse’s story, many opinions will be formed and emotions created. Both sorrow and disgust will fill your

minds and hearts, and you the public will know the truth. And always know that your opinion matters.

CHAPTER ONE

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When I walked inside the court room for the first time at the start of these proceedings, it felt like I had been transported to the 70’s. Judge Barry sat atop his perch, wearing a tiny looking bowtie. I thought how ironic. My dad’s logo was a bowtie, now the judge that would decide my rightful share of his estate wears a bowtie. Maybe that was a good omen?

As I studied the judge, he appeared to be seventy-ish with mannerism of a time long gone. His movements were with the grace of a seasoned professional, while exercising judicial authority.

I had been inside courtrooms before in my younger, hastier days, having served three months for shoplifting and a few years later, nine months on a GTA (Grand Theft Auto) charge. But this was my first time inside of a Civil courtroom, immediately recognizing the difference.

In Criminal court, the impending doom of a jail sentence was lurking. But these Bailiffs didn’t look like they were anxious to slap cuffs on my wrist and take me into custody. This was more of a gentleman’s fight, a fight of wits. I just happen to be the only one in the room that didn’t have high-priced lawyers to do my bidding.

As I looked around this time-honored chamber wrapped in the mystique of the settlements of monumental estates, I thought, what am I doing here? How had I arrived at this juncture? How had my life taken this drastic turn, a turn almost too much for me to handle.

The magnitude of it all felt crushing at times. But here I was in all my tininess, trying to persuade the court that I was the eldest son of Steve Banerjee and was swindled out of my share of his estate by my evil stepmother.

As soon as the judge spoke in his authoritative tone, something about him seemed untrustworthy. The same feeling coursed through that I usually get when I’m pulled over by cops – be prepared for anything, even death.

Although, I was unable to read if he would rule fairly in the matter of Jesse Banerjee versus my stepmother, I knew as always, my brown being here meant it was Jesse Banerjee versus The Establishment. Me against the world. And I definitely wasn’t prepared for whatever was about to happen in this moment.

I had scraped up enough pennies to get the lawyer standing next to me to appear on my behalf, but in the least bit, did I have confidence that he was an adequate representative. I looked over at him and he appeared tinier than I felt. But I put on a brave face, although I felt very alone. I could only hope that everything would turn out okay, and that the court could see through the scam that had been played on me.

Staring at the man who would decide my financial fate, and in that moment my life spun into something almost unexplainable. If you’ve ever gone on a journey that seemed like you had entered another dimension and everything there was so strangely odd from what you were used to, always making all things seem impossible to accomplish, you understand how I felt.

If you haven’t ever experienced this type of conundrum, all of what you’re about to read will seem like a fictional tale. Which is okay, if you like a good book with enough twists to keep you turning the page. This was certainly a mystery, the mysterious travels through the terrain of greed and deception.

The factual evidence that you will read, will be an eye-opener. After you read all the evidence, you’ll know. And there’s something about the truth that’s liberating and once you know something, you can’t just simply unknow it.

The discovery of all I was finding out, some days made me feel trapped in my own skin, trapped in my own mind, a peasant battling aristocrats. Son of the two dream-seeking immigrants, that had the gall to even think I could win? And without even knowing who would assist my efforts to allow the truth to be told?

Although, I could have easily blamed others for my circumstances because a few people certainly had something to do with it but I took a different route. I stayed as positive as I could, believing God would help get me through whatever I would face from these scoundrels.

Realizing that my outcome determined the way I saw the world, I tried on rose-colored lenses for a while to see if things would appear more beautiful. I attempted to inject a dose of positivity into each day, always feeling my dream life was on the next turn, in the next moment. I think I would have went insane, if I hadn’t. By maintaining a sense of calm, I was able to stay the course.

It has been said that those closest to you, don’t really understand you. That was the case with me, some of my best friends tried to persuade me to give up my pursuit. And l must admit that there were days that the fear of failure crept in, shouting you can’t succeed. This fight is way too big for you!

On those days, I just wanted to hit the snooze button and continue to sleep and sleep and sleep, until I woke up with it all over. And I would be back to living my simple life. Of course, with my inheritance and able to do most anything that I pleased. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be that simple. Nothing in my life has ever been.

Reality shook me one day, letting me know that I would have to be more committed than I had ever been in my entire life. Facing this daily mental and almost physical plight, the principles embedded deeply within me was what drove me to complete the mission I set out to do. They were my why for who I am. I discovered values that I had along the way that gave me a more complete sense of myself. And a more complete sense of myself, gave me a higher level of self-control. During this journey, I changed significantly.

Even though, there were times that everything would fluctuate and I couldn’t dig myself out the hole I had slid into. And I would feel like I should see a therapist to be sure any of what I was experiencing was really happening. The continual thoughts of being cheated and robbed had definitely affected my mental health, which would cause my behavior to shift.

All I could think of on most days, was ways to clear my dad’s name and how to get his estate back from those who stole it. It would leave me feeling weak, and sometimes helpless. I would try to meditate but would open my eyes unable to focus, shortly after I closed them.

There was a period of time that I was definitely not being the best version of myself. This messy situation had turned me into something different, something that became unrecognizable. I would go to Mass and Mass was interrupted with the same demanding thought. Why were they doing this to me?

My anxiety began to keep me awake at night, not being able to fall asleep until 2 or 3 am, causing the next day at work to be dreadful. How could people be so cruel? Living with so many vexing thoughts for a number of years would transform my concepts of right and wrong. Then one day everything began to get foggy, until foggy days became all there was.

CHAPTER TWO

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Two newly arrivals, escaping their homelands in search of the American dream, a Bengali man from Mumbai, Somen Steve Banerjee and Rosalba Rose Estrada, a lady from Mexico. Unlikely as it was for these particular people to ever have a chance to meet, they did in a party zone for immigrants in downtown Los Angeles.

Stories were told to me as young as four years old about my dad by Aunt Nydia. She was a very short lady with a European looking nose and I remember how nice she always was. She laughed while telling me of how my mom gave my dad a wrong number on their first encounter, but when he ran into her again, it was destiny that the two would become my parents.

As I was entering the first grade, I remember Aunt Sarah, another one of my mom’s sisters, carrying on the tales about my legendary father. Aunt Sarah was open-minded and charismatic. I loved being with her. She would always take me to McDonalds to get a Big Mac, my favorite. I laughed a lot when I was with Aunt Sarah, and laughing wasn’t common because poor people like us didn’t have very much to laugh about.

Mom’s family was originally from Hermosillo, Sonara. Hermosillo was a wealthy industrial city located in the center of northwestern Mexico, the capital of Sonora. It was the gateway to the coastal resorts

on the Gulf of California, such as the sandy beaches of Kino Bay, and other tourist’s havens.

My mom’s traditional Mexican cheek bones were lovely. She was a white complexioned woman with dyed blonde hair. Mom was my grandfather’s favorite, daddy’s little girl. She loved to dance. But like any poor person, her beauty would fade with the grind of life and the stress contained therein.

Mom had absolutely no desire to be a mother and she didn’t offer much parental supervision. She was busy living her own life, which included the demanding task of keeping her boyfriends happy. So, by the time I was six years old, I was basically on my own.

Mom would send me to Mexico every year until I was twelve. I hated it most times because all of my friends were in LA. I would be still in Mexico sometimes when the school year started in LA, a great contribution to my lack of education. The small family that I had in Mexico just let me roam all over the place and didn’t encourage schooling. After I didn’t go there frequently, I grew distant from Mexico and my family there.

Most of mom’s family didn’t practice strong family ties. And personally, I would experience too many bad encounters with her family to be close to them. So, my family would become the friends I met in the streets – people I hung out with.

I guess to encourage me to make something of myself as I grew up, I would hear all sorts of stories about how my dad pulled himself up by his bootstraps. How he was from a big family that was very close. He had four brothers, all growing up in the poor streets of Bombay, working hard every day in their father’s printing company.

Dad’s family was as poor or poorer than mom’s. Kids in Bombay wore raggedy clothes and were barefoot a lot as they ran and played in the streets. Dad liked dealing with the street vendors that sold anything

from America. Although, he didn’t have the extra cash to purchase much, he would admire postcards of New York’s skyline, Marlboro cigarettes and Coca-Cola. He knew as soon as he was old enough, he would leave India for America.

My father was the second oldest but had the biggest imagination of how to escape Bombay’s poverty. Poverty that he experienced growing up was at least ten times worse than any in the United States. He saved his money after winning bets till he had enough to buy a more modern printing press for his father, then enough to leave India.

Young Somen reaching out for more of what life had to offer: adventure and money. Crossing continents with only the thought of being successful, he arrived in America, his dream destination, the place where his fame would manifest.

After dad landed in New York in 1969, he stayed with family there. A few months later, he was in LA where he worked two, sometimes three jobs. He accepted slave wages because he didn’t have a green card, and managers of those times would turn a blind eye when hiring an employee that they could pay much less than they had to pay an American worker. Nannygate in 1993 would even expose high level government officials like Hillary Clinton for using these short cuts?

Dad was only getting a few hours of sleep each night. He worked in the printing department at Mattel toys, while working for a gas station at night until he had enough money to buy his own station. Along the way he had all types of odd jobs like working with hotel cleaning staffs, even wearing the bell hop’s hat.

The University of Southern California on Vermont Street was where dad laid his head on the few moments that he got a chance to rest. Not long after mom and he met, he moved her into his bachelor pad. The two of them would soon move to Korea Town near Shatto Park to a roomier

apartment. Theirs was a loving relationship, although they didn’t have very much.

Mom got pregnant and she left LA to be with family in Arizona. Dad went into his savings to make sure she had enough money to pay the hospital to bring me into the world. I was born in a Catholic Hospital in Nogales, Arizona, April 13, in the 70s, Jesus Banerjee, the eldest son of Steve Banerjee and Rose Estrada.

Neither of my parents had immigration papers, and the fear of being deported caused many stressful days. The lack of money, didn’t help their situation much either. They would eventually succumb to the pressure, causing the two of them to split up when I was around three years old.

Dad’s ultimate dream was to create a company with a worldwide trademark. His dream would materialize in 1979. He was sitting in a restaurant and was amused by a particular design of the chairs. When he asked the maître d who was the maker of the chairs, the maître d said Thomas Chippendale, a classic furniture maker. From that day, for dad the word Chippendales was synonymous with style and on that day his idea had a name.

After the break up, mom took me with her to Guaymas, Mexico, a seaport city. She needed the support of family. And we were there getting their support for three years.

Once we were back in LA, we lived in East Hollywood on Hoover Street. There was a hill there and me and my friends would get into shopping carts and zoom down the hill. Just poor kids trying to chip off a little piece of excitement for ourselves and very lucky no one’s neck was broken.

Aunt Nydia unexpectedly visited us from Mexico one day, and said she