You bet your gats and spats he does.

But not because he founded the new Las Vegas. He didn't.

Not because he made dramatic contributions to the development of the casino corridor. He mostly fizzled there, too. He died at 41 at a time the Flamingo, after a miserable start, was finally clicking.

You can't even give him credit for dreaming up the plan for the Flamingo. That big idea belonged to Billy Wilkerson, who had owned the Trocadaro nightclub and founded the Hollywood Reporter.

Siegel deserves a lasting tribute because he checked out at just the right time.

He was a psychopathic killer, a frustrated actor, and a resort developer of questionable expertise; but his murder generated a legend that proved enormously profitable for Las Vegas.

Long before a clever ad man uttered, "What happens here, stays here," Siegel's unsolved homicide was our first big marketing coup. Although he was shot to death at the Beverly Hills home of his mob moll girlfriend, Virginia Hill, Siegel's sendoff became a long-playing advertisement for Las Vegas as a mysterious and exciting place apart from the rest of post-World War II America.

Bugsy's murder generated reams of news copy, books, and movies. Perhaps the greatest irony of Siegel's story is that, in death, he eventually gained the big-screen stardom that eluded him in life. The 1991 blockbuster movie "Bugsy" starred Warren Beatty in the title role.

Ask almost any Las Vegas tourist of a certain age about our history, and you'll get an earful of how Siegel founded the neon-lit oasis and added class to the sawdust town. Although he wasn't a complete mope when it came to development -- Siegel's lawyer Louis Wiener once told me that his client was planning a golf course for the Flamingo when his life was so rudely interrupted -- his actual hotel dream has long since been eclipsed by legend. But his notorious image, mostly filtered through Hollywood lenses and books with titles like "We Only Kill Each Other," is an indelible part of our story.

Visitors might not know Kirk Kerkorian is responsible for building the world's largest hotel three times in Las Vegas, or that Steve Wynn is the magician who brought volcanoes, pirate ships, and grand fountains to the Strip, but they know that if you called Benjamin Siegel "Bugsy" you did so at your own peril.

Had he managed to keep his mania in check and age gracefully, Siegel might have been just another of the city's colorful founders and had breakfast at the Horseshoe with Benny Binion or played rummy at the Las Vegas Country Club with Mo Dalitz. He might have enjoyed a long life punctuated by only occasional controversy. And that would have been terrible.

In life, Siegel was a hot-tempered maniac who tried to make the transition from consummate killer to the ultimate casino host. He hired press agents and surrounded himself with Hollywood celebrities and legitimate Las Vegans.

Thankfully, he couldn't escape his gangster roots.

His blood and legend spattered on Las Vegas forever. In death, he became the celebrity of his tortured dreams and, in my opinion, the first Strip legend.

If that doesn't qualify him for a handsome bronze statue or a star on the sidewalk, what does?

John L. Smith's column appears Sunday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. E-mail him at Smith@reviewjournal.com or call 383-0295.