As we were going to press, both The Miami Herald and Sun-Sentinel ran pieces on the state’s acquisition of U.S. Sugar's land to help restore the natural flow of water to the Everglades. So did the New York Times. The Herald and Times’ pieces were particularly long. All three stories emphasized cost, wondering if the price was right in the first place, and if in hard times the state could afford to purchase this land. There were the usual quotes from lawyers from interests trying to block the plan, as well as environmentalists and spokesmen for the Crist administration. The latter are determined to see this deal through as a once-in-a-lifetime chance to correct a mistake that never should have been in the first place.
We know something about this subject from some research last year for Gulfstream Media Group’s magazines on the Treasure Coast, Stuart Magazine and Jupiter Magazine. We quoted some people who have been involved in environmental efforts for many years. Among them is Karl Wickstrom, editor of Florida Sportsman, the best man in our business I have met over 40 years. Wickstrom came out of The Miami Herald, during the day when all growth was good and the environmental be damned. In 1969, he launched Florida Sportsman and turned it into one of the best magazines of its kind. The outdoors are his beat, and for as long as his magazine has existed, it has crusaded to correct policies that damage the environment.
One of the greatest mistakes goes back 60 years. Then, as now, agricultural interests all but owned many Florida politicians. Thus they were able to largely shut off what we now know is a great river, flowing from Lake Okeechobee to Florida Bay. Imagine blocking off a major river, and channeling the huge amount of water into a massive lake and canals. That’s what they did to the River of Grass.
The result is to store up huge amounts of water in Lake Okeechobee until the lake gets so high that it threatens to break through its dike. Fearing a breach in the dike and a disastrous flood – such as the one that killed thousands of people in the 1920s – water managers let the water run off. And not south to the Glades as nature intended, but into rivers east and west, to the estuaries along the coasts, Fort Myers to the west, Stuart to the east. Nice idea, except that the water from the lake is polluted. Polluted by nutrients poured into it by run-off from heavily fertilized farms, much of it sugar cane. The effect of that polluted water is devastating, killing all forms of wildlife, including fish and birds.
This does not happen every year. Sometimes the lake is very low, and we worry about water shortages. But it happens often enough that every time the environmentalists manage to get wildlife back close to a natural state, the discharges kill off their work. People in Stuart and Fort Myers know this well. They see the diseased and dead fish, and the remains of the birds which feed on them. For areas whose economy is closely tied to a healthy estuary system, it is a recurring disaster.
I would take Karl Wickstrom’s opinion over that of the lawyers and polluters.
“This is it,” Wickstrom says. “We either do this or we lose out. If we miss this it’s like we drive and see different properties that we could have bought for a song. And it’ll come back in spades to get us. There is no other way to restore the sheet flow. It’s not perfect, but only alternative we have.
“This is a giant opportunity. People are for it. Polls show that. They have a bad feeling about the government subsidizing Big Sugar and they are making hundreds of millions and they turn around and cause pollution. Huge areas south of Lake Okeechobee, as large as the lake itself, have been drained to keep the polluters making money. Mother nature wanted that to be wet. Draining it out to the estuaries reduces ground water. When you do have dry years you have no sponge effect.
“The people fighting this all have conflicts of interest; they are lawyers for polluters or polluters themselves. I call it the pollution establishment because that’s what is. People want to make a lot of money with the status quo, and not worry about the horrible ruination it causes. It’s such a shame. We remember rivers and estuaries that were pure and filled with fish and birds. Now we suffer with toilets. This is the public good versus private profit makers. True, sugar is getting a good price. I say so what? It is not worth jeopardizing this opportunity.”
That’s what you don’t read in newspapers. The truth.
Each time the Winter Olympics come around, there seems to be a new sport added. And the sports often are snowy versions of games that first appeared on dry land, like those boards they flip around on half pipes. In that sense, all games are versions of each other. What is ice hockey but golf on skates? And where once figure skating was just figure skating, they now have contests to see which men and women can effect the most intimate poses on skates. One event noticed this year seemed not to even qualify as athletics. Two ladies bearing what appeared to be land mine detectors pushed a disc around in what seemed to be a large-gauge shuffleboard. But creative sportsmen have not exhausted all the possibilities for Olympic fun.
One game we would like to see added is ice balling. It is pretty much what it sounds like. The competitors would line up on top of a mountain, each with a large (at least six feet in diameter) ball of solid ice. As in luge, the athletes would start the ball rolling with a push, then jump on top and dance around to keep their balance as the ball picks up speed and roars down the mountain, possibly reaching speeds of 80 miles per hour. This is a spin on the sport where guys get on logs and see who can stay up as the log rotates in the water.
To add another dimension of interest and competition, the athletes could use long sticks with boxing gloves at the end to try to knock each other off the moving ice ball. This would be good for the economy because the sport, as do all modern sports, would require an entirely new set of equipment, including, but not limited to: a helmet; knee and shoulder pads; a thubber (that’s the stick to knock the other fellow off) made of Louisville Slugger ash; and a version of a boxing glove, a little smaller than traditional boxing gloves, but somewhat larger than the scaled down gloves used in MMA. And, of course, shoes are a must. You would need a special shoe with tiny metal cleats to provide traction on the icy ball, especially if it heats up with speed and starts to melt. The adventure would be not only maintaining one’s balance as the ball hurtles down the hill, but also stopping it at the bottom. This could be done by reversing pitch, in which the cleated shoes stop dancing one way and go the other, as fast as possible, braking the ball in a gorgeous silver spray of particles.
Another game that should be considered is ice rowing. It is similar to traditional rowing, also known as "crew" (never "crew team"), in that ice and water are similar materials, depending on temperature. The shells – no need to give them a new name – would have blades on the bottom like a sled. The oars would be a cross between standard oars and porcupines, so the rowers could use a serrated edge to dig into the ice and propel the shell. This would be an exciting, fast contest, especially if the shells go downhill as on a ski jump. As with skiers, the shells would go airborne from time to time and the oarsmen, all eight of them, would feather their blades to reduce drag, and in effect create a certain lift as with the wing of an aircraft or the sail of a boat, which is the same principle but different. When airborne, the ice rowers would all crouch over as in ski jumping and speed skating, then all pop up and begin rowing when the shell returns to earth.
A high school crew can cover a mile in under five minutes, or about 12 miles an hour, even more than that in kilometers if you are European. Imagine the speed an ice shell could reach. Easily 30 to 40 miles per hour, faster in the air, and even more in kilometers.
These are just two fresh ideas to add a little spice to the next games, and keep the economy growing by rowing. But each to his own station. Wonder if anybody has tried igloo poker.
The late George "Bob" Gill arrived in Florida from a cold Chicago just after World War II. When he told people he wanted to build here, he was told he was too late, the boom was over. Some advice. Gill went on to build a bunch of houses and then got into hotels. The first was the Yankee Clipper, which he built on land considered unusable because it was not regular. Into that wedge of sand he inserted a building shaped like a ship. That, as well as the fact that the New York Yankees (think Joltin’ Joe, a.k.a. the Yankee Clipper) stayed there for spring training, inspired the name.
He went on to build the Yankee Trader a bit north. Bob Gill may be gone, as of last year, but his legacy of the two landmark hotels are not. To the contrary, they have both been reborn under the new ownership of Starwood. We toured them this week (with David Wahba, the director of sales and marketing) and came away impressed. The old Clipper, now the Sheraton Fort Lauderdale Beach Hotel, remains one of the few hotels that actually sits on the beach, with no busy A1A to cross to the water. In both cases the new owner kept what was best about the two facilities, while modernizing them to compete with the new W Fort Lauderdale, Ritz-Carlton and Hilton.
At the Sheraton Fort Lauderdale Beach Hotel, the Wreck Bar, a novelty at the time because it was situated below the swimming pool, remains as designed. Patrons can see through a huge glass window the activity in the pool above (you have to see this to get it). Huge beams simulate an old fashioned ship. Its dark wood is in contrast to the rest of the hotel redesign, which is blond and airy, especially in the lobby. Around the corner on the ground floor there is a Starbucks, run by the hotel. Additions have been added in recent years, including one reached by a skyway across A1A. A big change has been made to the beachside pool, greatly enlarged to accommodate the increased number of guests related to the expansion.
Up the road at the old Yankee Trader (now The Westin Beach Resort) there is still Shula’s on the Beach, an indoor/outdoor restaurant which takes up most of the ground floor. No big difference there, but the same cannot be said a few floors up where the walkway over the cross street now leads to a greatly expanded convention area. It puts this hotel much on the map for business groups and conventions. Part of the new complex is a ballroom which can seat almost 500. There have been numerous exterior improvements, which give what had been a dated facility a modern, state-of-the-art allure.
Normally I would not read a long piece in a Philadelphia paper online about a U.S. senator who switched parties (for the second time) in an attempt to hold a seat he has had for 30 years. But this senator happened to be Arlen Specter. I wanted to see if there was any reference to his work on the Warren Commission’s investigation of the assassination of John F. Kennedy. There was.
The article said Specter was the man who came up with the single-bullet theory, also known as the Magic Bullet, which the Warren Commission concluded went through JFK’s body and then wounded Texas Gov. John Connally. It said, accurately, that Specter has endured ridicule over the years for developing that theory, without which the lone assassin conclusion could not be sustained. Then the writer added, inaccurately, that the theory has never been refuted, and that tests had shown it was theoretically possible.
That is nonsense. The theory was first vigorously refuted way back in 1967, in Philadelphia of all places, when Gaeton Fonzi of Philadelphia magazine interviewed Specter about his work for the Warren Commission. At the time, very few people had even read the Warren Commission report, and Specter was flushed with success when papers such as the New York Times praised the commission’s work, even though nobody at the Times had even read the 26 volumes of evidence. But Fonzi had been prepped by someone who had carefully studied the evidence. Specter did not expect to be questioned in detail about JFK’s wounds. Fonzi liked and respected Specter, but to his amazement, a surprised Specter stumbled all over the place trying to explain the unexplainable – how the holes in Kennedy’s shirt did not match the wounds, and even if they did, how a bullet that appeared to never have been fired left more fragments in Connally’s body than could have been possible from an almost pristine bullet.
Fonzi had expected Specter, normally smooth, to explain away the inconsistencies, and was stunned at his inability to do so. Fonzi reported as much in Philadelphia magazine. That incident later appeared in this magazine in 1980, in a piece that eventually became the 1994 book The Last Investigation. It was re-published in an updated form two years ago. I wrote the foreword for what is now regarded as an iconic work, the first book to link Lee Harvey Oswald to our CIA. That connection occurred right here in South Florida when Fonzi began delving into the CIA’s support for anti-Castro Cubans. Various books have cited Fonzi’s investigative work, and almost all of them have refuted the single-bullet theory.
Now, Arlen Specter is a darn smart man, and was an experienced prosecutor at the time of the Warren Commission. I have long found it hard to believe he believed his own theory, and the only explanation for the theory seems to be that Specter’s charge was not to solve a murder, but to prove that Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. We now know that the Warren Commission had an agenda to put the case to rest. It ignored much evidence, especially the eyewitness accounts of many people who said the fatal shots came from the grassy knoll, indicating more than one shooter. There was dissention on the commission, notably from Sen. Richard Brevard Russell Jr. of Georgia, who did not buy the single-bullet idea. That, however was not made public at the time.
Over the years, researchers have built on each other’s books, and almost all rely on Fonzi’s landmark work. It recent years David Talbot in Brothers revealed that Robert Kennedy immediately suspected a government conspiracy. He summoned federal marshals for his own protection and one of his first calls was to the CIA director. He quietly followed events such as the Garrison trial in New Orleans. He felt powerless, even as attorney general, for he knew the widespread animosity toward his brother and him among high government officials, including members of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, who resented Kennedy’s failure to invade Cuba and attempts to end the Cold War. The Hawks thought only nuclear weapons could do that.
Last year, JFK and the Unspeakable by James W. Douglass did a brilliant job of packaging all the research of the last 45 years. He had the advantage of information supplied by the release of formerly classified documents, most of them discovered by former Washington Post reporter Jefferson Morley. They point to the long-held suspicion that Lee Harvey Oswald was an intelligence asset, the sinister link that Fonzi first discovered in the 1970s. It has bothered me for years that with rare exceptions such as Morley, the mainstream press has failed in its responsibility to inform the public on the crime of the last century. The Arlen Specter article is just the most recent example.
Ironically, the same year that Specter entered the U.S. Senate (1980), another Pennsylvanian exited it. He was Richard Schweiker, and he’s still around. He was the man who in 1975 recalled Gaeton Fonzi’s Philadelphia magazine article. He had re-opened an investigation into the death of President Kennedy and was convinced Oswald had CIA connections. He hired Fonzi to try to prove it. The rest is history.
The braces on her teeth. Her picture was in the paper. I think that’s what got to me, the story of the young girl killed when a BSO car hit the car she was in so hard it was broken in half. Such a pretty girl, braces on her teeth, on the verge of the real world. Wham. Dead. So much gone, so fast.
“Can’t stop everybody,” he said. I think he picked me out because of the Porsche. He thought I was a rich kid. I paid $2,600 for the used Porsche, at a time when a new VW cost $1,400.
One ticket in Florida was in Lawtey, the notorious speed trap many University of Florida alum experience when driving out of Gainesville, where signs went from 55 m.p.h., which I was doing, to about 25 m.p.h. within a few hundred yards. It was more than 10 years ago, and I am still angry about that one. I don’t know if they still do that, but if they do, it is organized crime, run by the wonderful government in a redneck town. The braces on the teeth brought that bad day back, and I am angry.
Back on topic. It amazes me how fast people drive in Fort Lauderdale, and seem to get away with it. Yesterday, a car passed me in a 35 m.p.h. zone on Broward Boulevard. It had to be going 55 m.p.h. and accelerating. Later in the day, I stopped for a red light at Broward and Andrews. I had plenty of time to stop, and in the rear view mirror I saw a car, coming up fast, swing out behind me and bust that light, big time. Had another driver, going perpendicular and anticipating the change of light, made a mistake, we might have had a fatality right in front of me. It happens all the time. Why are people in such a hurry? And with tinted windows, you can’t even see who is not in control. It must have something to do with sex.
And there is a lawsuit in Pembroke Pines over those automatic tickets at traffic lights at major intersections. The complaint is based on invasion of privacy, or some such B.S. A number of people are behind that suit. I would like to follow every one and see how often they bust lights. I would wage they do it all the time. They don’t like to stop.
This is a rant. Venting. Blame it on the braces on a pretty14-year-old girl who is not around to read this.
In past blogs we've remembered important people who have died. Kaye Pearson, Jack Cooney, most recently Tom Oxley. Today, in Boise, Idaho, there is a memorial service for Ruth Gullstrom. She was 98. More importantly, she was our neighbor for 16 years.
When we came to Florida in 1970, we found a pretty house in Colee Hammock. What we did not know was that our neighbors were watching with interest to see who bought the house. They were up to here with the wild parties held by the previous owners. But Ruth and Al immediately befriended us, and that is an understatement if there is any way to understate or exaggerate the word friend. Al, whose real first name was Carl, arrived in Florida in 1918. He was 2 years old, the son of a Finnish immigrant to Massachusetts. They came down because a sister was ill and the doctors suggested a warmer climate. She died anyway. Al recalled the 1926 hurricane when their house on Ravenswood Road blew away and he helped men mount the house on logs and roll it back in place. It stayed there until airport expansion took it away in the 1980s.
Ruth was 30 years older than my wife Peggy, but they became best friends. Ruth was warm, funny and loving. She used to give our kids cookies and milk. Years later, when our son Mark arrived with a spring break gang from Notre Dame, Ruth and Al put them up in a spare room. They were surrogate grandparents.
In 1982 we had a bad break. We were broke and planned to take the kids out of private school. Our youngest, Julie, was at Happyland, the First Presbyterian Church pre-school. Ruth and Al picked up the tuition. We never asked them. They just did it. Neighbors.
Al, a carpenter by trade, was a longtime employee of Causeway Lumber. He could do anything, always in a slow, drawling way. One New Year’s Day we awoke to a water spout in our front yard. A pipe had broken. Al had heart trouble, and I did not want to trouble him, but he was the only guy I knew who could save Florida from drowning. He went into his shop and hammered a piece of pipe so that it fit over the key leading from the main. The man literally made a tool in about five minutes. That shut off the water.
“Thanks Al,” I said. “We’ll get a plumber Monday.”
“It’s New Year’s,” Al said. “You gotta have water.”
Conscious of his bad heart, I protested. But he went back to his work room and produced a spade, a bit of hose and a hacksaw. He dug up the ground, cut the rusted part of the pipe and fitted the hose over the gap. All I did was stand by with a two-by-four and pressed a little when Al said to. It took about 30 minutes. That fix lasted for several years, and we had water on New Year’s Day.
This could go on. One Christmas Ruth asked me to get a picture of Foy Fleming, who lived in that classic walled house on our street. I did not know it, but Peggy thought he was the best-looking man who ever lived. She was not alone. Ruth wanted to play a joke on Peg but was too shy to ask Foy for a picture of himself so she could have fun with it. She asked me to call Foy. I told him the story.
“Bunny,” he said, in his southern way, “I probably shouldn’t do this, but I will.”
The picture was a Christmas gift. It read: “To Peggy, with all my love, Foy.”
Ruth and Al moved to Ocala in 1986, and we often visited. They bought land next to large horse farms and it was great fun to walk the dirt roads and get to know the horses. Al died and Ruth moved to Boise to be near their son, Chuck. Peggy kept in touch by phone and we always enjoyed the amusing cards Ruth sent for birthdays, etc. We knew she was failing and we talked about taking the time to visit her.
My wife is sad today, for the reasons here mentioned and the countless other kindnesses that came from wonderful people and the blessing of living next door to them. Peggy wishes we could do something. I told her I would think of something.
On the surface it would seem quite a distance between the Scott Rothstein saga and the case of former Broward County Judge Larry Seidlin, being sued for allegedly exploiting an elderly sick neighbor, Barbara Kasner. In reality, the distance between the two cases is no more than the distance between the former offices of Rothstein and his partner, Russell Adler. And that could create great complications in the legal process.
Adler, you see, is representing Seidlin in the case brought by attorney William Scherer. Scherer himself is heavily involved with the Rothstein case. He has been all over the media as representative for $100 million worth of investors who claim Rothstein’s scheme victimized them.
In an odd twist this story found its way to an obscure blog, www.EstateofDenial.com, which deals with probate matters. In considerable detail, writer Lou Ann Anderson described the events leading up to the present situation, including the fact that Seidlin was the judge in the Anna Nicole Smith case. It was a long post, describing a story that dates back to 2007 with a series of legal events involving a fight over guardianship and efforts to negate a will that was changed by an ailing woman.
Anderson, who appears to be in Texas (most of the posts on the blog relate to that state), points out that Scherer’s attempt to speed the case to trial, because of Barbara Kasner’s ill health, may be stymied if Adler is indicted or disbarred in the Rothstein matter, and Seidlin seeks new representation. The piece is also sarcastically critical of Broward Chief Judge Victor Tobin, who requested the case be moved from Broward Judge Tom Lynch to a Palm Beach County court, likely resulting in another delay. She smirks at Tobin’s reason – to avoid the appearance of impropriety – in a case which began with impropriety and has been marked by a series of strange events.
Anderson details them all, including recent efforts, so far defeated by Scherer, to have a guardian appointed for Kasler. She observes that a guardian could have considerable powers over legal events, including the lawsuit against Seidlin.
Scherer’s urgency in moving the case forward is not unfounded. Barbara Kasner, 83, is very ill, confined mostly to bed, breathing with the assistance of oxygen tubes and barely able to talk. Considering that Scherer’s suit against Seidlin alleges about $1 million in transferred assets so far, and including her will, the damage to Kasner’s estate may be as much as $6 million, there is ample reason for speed.
Some of the information in this column has been published locally. Anderson cites both the Miami Herald and the Daily Business Review. But we have not seen it packaged so neatly anywhere else. Unless you count New Times’ blog, Daily Pulp, where the entire Anderson piece was posted earlier last month.
Journalism has taken some strange twists in the last few years as newspapers have lost clout and the Internet has supplied increasing coverage and opinion on important stories.
But this sequence is bizarre, by any measure. A story on local affairs comes out of Texas, quoting South Florida sources, strange enough in itself, and winds up in a highly read local blog. And www.EstateofDenial.com seems determined to follow events here. Just a few days after the aforementioned post, there was a follow up reporting on the Miami Herald’s big Sunday feature on the background and causes of so much South Florida corruption. The Sun-Sentinel ran a similar story the same day, but maybe Texas never heard of the Sun-Sentinel.
Anyway, it even reported the Herald’s conclusion. The lack of serious reporters has greatly reduced the usefulness of local media in being a watchdog for political misconduct. It isn’t about politics. It’s all about money. Really?
Scott Rothstein posed for a lot of pictures, especially with people he thought were important. This was especially true for political leaders, law enforcement officers and celebrities of any kind. If you had the good luck to pose with the alleged Ponzi schemer, then you must head to straight to jail.
At least that is the impression one gets from reading the blogs and comments which have become such an important part of our information system in the 21st century. Names are being thrown around with deplorable lack of taste, even common sense. People who knew Rothstein, from Gov. Charlie Crist to football legend Dan Marino, have been accused of guilt (or gilt) by association. If Rothstein made a contribution to a political campaign, or a charity, that makes the recipient a bad person. Especially if you were seen having a cocktail with him. Or had the misfortune to be a mayor, sheriff or police chief – the kind of people Rothstein sucked up to, or as Churchill might correct, up to which he sucked.
There ought to be a law against such nonsense. In fact there is. It’s called defamation of character, but the Internet tends to ignore the rules which have long governed media conduct. Crist is getting tarred more than most because he is so visible and running for high office. He did go to Rothstein’s wedding. A lot of politicians would, if they had received major contributions. He made the mistake of posing with him. But if he was such a good friend, why was Rothstein not invited to the swearing in ceremony of Sen. George LeMieux in Washington? Certainly Crist would have made sure a good buddy got invited to a function for someone who really is a good buddy. LeMieux’s office confirmed that Rothstein was not invited, although he showed up anyway.
It is interesting that in retrospect people seem to think Rothstein’s illegal (allegedly, of course) conduct was obvious to the world. But keep in mind when several years ago we published our list of most powerful people, nobody even mentioned Rothstein. Yet last year in the same survey, his name came up repeatedly, but usually with a caveat that there was mystery to his sudden wealth. But that’s the point. It was sudden. Certainly in the political world and the legal community, his reputation was questioned. Said a prominent lawyer: “I suspected him a couple years ago. Our firm does pretty well, but there was no way we could have generated the kind of money he was throwing around.”
But the people the money was thrown at did not necessarily know how widespread his largess was. Nor would a politician necessarily know that a suddenly wealthy man was running a Ponzi scheme, especially one based on non-existent lawsuits. There are many people around here who got rich fast. Dot-com millionaires showed up early in the last decade buying huge houses just to have a place to park their yachts. All kinds of legitimately wealthy people arrive in Florida as unknowns. Many prefer to stay that way; others crave the limelight.
Obviously lawyers in his firm, especially those who knew his background, had to know something was wrong. They must have known the business they weren’t doing could not provide such income. But I doubt if many of them thought he was crazy enough to come up with such a scam, and expect to get away with it.
Finally, as posted here before, I don’t recall hearing the name Scott Rothstein until we compiled our powerful list in the spring of 2009. To put that in perspective, I am told I met Wayne Huizenga in the 1970s, when he was quietly building his first fortune in Waste Management. But the name meant nothing to me until Blockbuster and the sports franchises almost 15 years later. And I think I am more typical than not.
Had I known Scott Rothstein was contributing to everything that moved in the last few years, I would have approached him about something for my foundation. I don’t have a foundation, but that would be a good way to start.
Scott Rothstein has compiled a body of literature that would make John O’Hara envious. O’Hara published about 400 stories, as well as a number of novels. Even he was not sure of the total. Judging by the number of references to Rothstein’s literary style on the popular blogs, many people have preserved written souvenirs of his brief but glorious rise to fame. They show an erratic nature, varying from effusively affectionate to hostile and threatening. Here’s one from Byron Calhoun, the likeable broker associate specializing in commercial property for Stiles.
The background: Calhoun had gotten friendly with Rabbi Schneur Kaplan when he was looking for a downtown location for his services. For several years the Chabad was held at the Riverside Hotel. However, the rabbi was told last year (2008) that pending construction of the hotel would not permit the Rosh Hashanah services in September. Asked to help with the matter, Calhoun asked Stiles’ Jeff Lis if he could get a construction delay for a week to permit the congregation’s use of hotel facilities. Rothstein, ever the opportunist when it came to schmoozing, was delighted to jump in when Lis reported success. However, the Riverside began pre-construction midstream in the holy week.
The e-mail exchange shows the Jekyll and Hyde sides of Rothstein. Gracious and pious at one point, and friendly to Calhoun after the disappointment, he suddenly turned threatening, not to Stiles organization, but rather to the hotel. Here’s the exchange. Grammatical errors and stylistic quirks are as written. The e-mails were sent within a few days of each other in late September-early October, 2008.
Rothstein to Calhoun
Sept. 29. 2008
Byron,
Rabbi Kaplan just forwarded me your e-mail regarding the space at the Riverside.
I can not thank you enough for the beautiful thing you have done for our congregation. We are still a month or so away from completing our Shul on Broward Blvd. and if you had not stepped in we would have been without a place to worship on one of the holiest days of the year for the Jewish people.
We are forever in your debt.
You are a true gem and the Stiles Corporation should be proud to have you on their team. (Tell Terry and Doug I said so ….and tell them I said you deserve a raise….)
Wishing you all the best of everything always,
Scott
Calhoun to Rothstein
Sept. 30, 2008
Scott…thanks. I consider it a great privilege being asked to help. Jeff Lis, our Senior Vice President, who is heading up the effort to redevelop the Riverside Hotel is the real agent of action here. Without hesitation, Jeff took immediate remedial steps as soon as I informed him of your congregation’s plight. By the way, he wants you to know that he is part of the “Gator Nation” and that his son is attending “law School” at the U of Fl at this very time.
May you and your family and friends have a Blessed Holy Season.
Byron
Rothstein to Calhoun
Oct. 3, 2008
Byron,
Thanks again for your kindness. And please extend my sincere thanks and gratitude to Jeff Lis.
Unfortunately, the Riverside took it upon themselves to dismantle the electrical running to the room as soon as our services were over so we are no longer able to have services there next week despite your hard work and amazing efforts on our behalf.
I just wanted to let you know that despite the Riversides actions which were clearly motivated by something other than wanting to move the project forward (when the time is right I will deal with them…they really have no idea who they have angered), we remain in debt to you and Jeff for your sincerity, and kindness.
If there is ever anything I can do to help you or Jeff at any time please feel free to call on me.
Wishing you all the best,
Tell jeff I said….GO GATORS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Side Car: The rabbi’s story had a happy ending, we hope. The shul on Broward Boulevard opened, aided by a generous gift from Rothstein. It even put his name on the building. That was before the great fall. Now the name is gone.
