Soon after arriving in South Florida in 1970, I heard of an intriguing figure named Ken Burnstine. He had a semi-Ivy League background (three years at Penn) and had initially done well as a real estate developer. The round building at Oakland Park Blvd. and U.S. 1 was named Kenann, after Ken and his then-wife Ann. Burnstine had been president of his synagogue, and he was an excellent pilot who fancied World War II airplanes. He owned a B-26 bomber and a P-51 fighter, the latter painted garishly in the colors of several famous fighter outfits. One of his hobbies was air racing. He also had a gun range in his home and kept a pet lion in his yard.
People who knew those facts of Ken Burnstine’s life also heard something else. He was a drug runner. I heard that the first time I ever heard his name. The rumors were reinforced by the fact that he owned an aviation company and his planes kept crashing, loaded with dope. Leased them out, he said, can’t help what people do with them. Nobody believed that line and wondered why he wasn’t taken down. Years later Gaeton Fonzi wrote in this magazine that Ken Burnstine survived as a drug runner because he was useful to the government, doing work with his aircraft supporting CIA efforts in Latin America.
Eventually the government did take him down, and he quickly turned informant, a job he liked even better than drug running. He died in an air racing crash in 1976. There were rumors for five years that he had faked his death and had been seen in Europe. Gaeton Fonzi blew up that story with his three part series – “Ken Burnstine is Still Dead.” Fonzi thinks Burnstine’s plane was sabotaged. He thinks he was killed because he was the key witness in a big drug trial scheduled for just weeks after his death. Dozens of local people, targets of an FBI probe, might have gone to jail if he lived.
We think of Ken Burnstine this month because his record for getting away with bad deeds for years has been broken. Shattered in fact. Ken Burnstine was widely known almost from his arrival in Florida in the early 1960s, His flamboyant style and wild life and addiction to deals made him quite a figure in South Florida and elsewhere. But it took 15 years for him to come crashing down. Literally crashing down. Scott Rothstein did the same thing in just a few years.
This time last year I had barely heard of Scott Rothstein. At least, I don’t think I had, and if I had it was overhearing people wondering where the man had come from. One day nobody seemed to know him; the next, he was everywhere, rich, generous, a serious political player. His law firm had grown from nothing to big, overnight. That just did not happen, even in South Florida. The first time I really came to know the name was last spring, when we prepared our “50 Most Important” story. The last time we did that story, just a few years ago, Rothstein’s name never came up. This time it did, although with a lot of surrounding mystery. He had unquestionably become a player, but how? Like Ken Burnstine of yore, everybody seemed to be suspicious of his success. There was a sense that he, like Burnstine, would crash.
Last month it happened. The story has been breaking day by day, and in terms of money involved, it is much bigger than Ken Burnstine’s tale, if perhaps not quite so sinister. And there is one other difference. Ken Burnstine was important enough that he (or rather, his airplane) made our cover in the early 1970s. But the first time we did a study of important people, in 1976, there was no Ken Burnstine on the list.
Of course, he was dead. Still is.
In the 1960s the term new journalism became popular. Loosely defined, it meant that techniques usually associated with fiction were being used by newspaper and magazine writers. The popular examples were mostly the New York Esquire/New York Magazine crowd. Tom Wolfe, Jimmy Breslin, Norman Mailer, Gay Talese and Dick Schaap were among the best known
Today, we have something we might call the new new journalism, a.k.a. the blog. A few weeks back we wrote that former Miami Herald investigative reporter Dan Christensen was launching “Broward Bulldog” –- an online newspaper designed to fill the void being left as print newspapers are losing clout, and losing a lot of experienced reporters who need something to do. It did not take long for Christensen’s idea to click. Several of his blogs have appeared in the Sun-Sentinel, with attribution, of course. When you have that kind of credibility, the papers will run your stuff. Christensen’s problem is figuring out a way to fund the non-profit site.
It will take some time for Christensen to catch up with what has to be one of the most read blogs in the land. “Daily Pulp” by New Times Broward/Palm Beach’s Bob Norman has been around for several years, gaining a broad audience for the news Norman has first broken in print. Recently, with the Scott Rothstein story, his blog has gone nuts, in more ways than one. A series of recent blogs about Rothstein’s charity giving, with money he allegedly stole, developed more than 150 comments within hours. And from talk around town, those who respond are only a fraction of the total readers. Most people have enough sense not to dive into that bubbling pool of anti-Semitism and often reckless character bashing. We are referring to the anonymous posters, not the blog itself. Because it is so easy to do, and secretive, far more people are inclined to jump in than would ever take the trouble to write letters to the editor.
That said, it makes stimulating reading. Which is why posters often use the word “addictive.” A lot of the posts are pure entertainment, frustrated poets or wannabe private detectives sharing their skills, and others write in such code that you can’t figure out their point. But you get the impression that along with nuts, there are sound and informed minds at work. Obviously, the feds are watching, and perhaps even playing with teaser posts. When it gets into religion, some posters are clearly avid students, if not scholars, of organized religion. Others display knowledge of the legal system that no layman could have. It is hard, for anybody who cares about this part of South Florida, not to feel addicted.
The bottom line, according to New Times editor Eric Barton: “Daily Pulp” readership has increased by two and one-half times in the last month since the Rothstein story broke. He says the blog is on the way to one million page views in November.
“In general, it is local people reading it,” Barton says. “And the comments amount to people self-publishing.”
New journalism? Can you trust it? Not always, maybe not most of the time, but it is out there. We say again, one million views. Sooner or later, somebody will figure a way to make money.
"The evil that men do lives after them. The good is oft interred with their bones." - Julius Ceasar
Let’s, in a small way, put the lie to the Bard’s famous eulogy. We do so by remembering the good done by Marshall Harris, who died last week at 77. Marshall who? That was the question this magazine asked back in 1974 when we profiled the Florida legislature and learned that Dade County’s Marshall Harris, unknown to the average Florida voter, was considered a giant in the state legislature. Our piece dubbed him "The Super Legislator."At a time of so much political corruption from one end of the state to the other, and with the public cynical about elected officials in general, it is well to honor a man and a time that shines bright in the history of Florida government.
I went to Tallahassee in the fair spring of 1974 with little background on Florida government. I learned a lot, much of it surprisingly good, about our representatives in the capital. And what I learned immediately was that Marshall Harris seemed universally respected. I am not sure how I got to him quickly. It was probably through Ed Trombetta, a former state rep. who was working in the Askew administration, or Van Poole, another Broward Countian who later was state GOP chairman. I recall both men being very helpful.
Harris was known for his patrician style. He was a Harvard undergrad and law school man from a wealthy background. He was supremely confident and articulate. Some called him “the Jewish William Buckley.” He was considered abrasive and sometimes arrogant. However, I recall meeting him on short notice for breakfast, and found him friendly, candid and witty, although by his own admission, weary of the work load he carried.
He was so good; colleagues looked to him to lead. When we met, he had been voted by his peers "legislator of the year" three of the last four years. After eight years in Tallahassee, he was leaving. He spoke with wry humor:
“When I tell people here that I’m leaving, they say you can’t leave, that would be a disaster. But the people at home don’t think my leaving is a disaster. How could they, when they don’t even know I’m here?”
Harris was part of a historic restructuring of Florida government. There was a coalition of young legislators who reorganized government and shifted political power from its historic North Florida base to the more populous South Florida. He was one of several Dade County Democrats of outstanding quality. Others were Bob Graham, who went on to become governor and U.S. senator, and Dick Pettigrew. They were joined by talented young men from Broward and Palm Beach counties, all Republicans. They included Joel Gustafson and George Caldwell from Broward, and Don Reed from Palm Beach.
“Re-apportionment made it all possible,” Joel Gustafson recalls. “We went in with a bunch of moderate Republicans and liberal Democrats. It was an amazing time. It was all very collegial.”Gustafson had left the legislature by 1974, but at the time he described Harris well.
“He’s one of the brightest people I’ve ever worked with. Fiscally, he’s very conservative, really tough on the budget. He could almost run as a Republican. Nobody’s been quicker to take the various departments up here to task over how they spend their money.”Some nicknamed Harris “the computer” for his ability to attach numbers quickly to proposed bills.
“If you want to be arrogant, you better be right,” said a reporter at the time. “Harris is usually right.”As much as for his talent and combative instincts, Harris was respected as utterly ethical. No one ever suspected him of tacking on a seemingly innocuous amendment to a bill, only to have it discovered months later that it exempted some crony from a tax or opened a loophole for an unforeseen business advantage. Indeed, Harris left the legislature partly because he saw the leadership reverting to the pork-choppers style that he had helped overturn.
Little recognized outside Tallahassee in his prime, Harris was consistent to the end.His death was noted in the Miami Herald, but elsewhere only a blog here and there. Joel Gustafson did not know about it until called for a comment. Forty years after they worked together, his opinion had not changed.
“We had a curious relationship,” Gustafson says. “He had a strident personality, but you had to give him his due. He was right in cases where you might not agree philosophically. He would bowl you over with reams of statistical and factual information. You deferred to him on many occasions. He could put you to sleep with details, your eyes would glass over, but he was right, so far ahead of the curve. In any legislature about 30 percent of the people do all the work. They are they ones who are made conferees, who chairman committees and are called to special meetings. Marshall was in that select group.
”When Harris left Tallahassee, he largely left politics, although he did make an unsuccessful run as Jim Smith’s running mate in the 1986 gubernatorial primary. Mostly he devoted his time to his family travel agency and to cultural affairs in Miami. Gustafson, who saw him only occasionally, wishes it had been different.
“When I saw him he was always gracious,” he says. “But I think we could have used Marshall Harris in the state for a long time as a public official.” Gustafson, who has remained active in various political capacities, adds: “When I had some issue I wish I could have talked to him. He always worked on it. There was a bond in the people who showed up in those days. We were like a big fraternity.”
A fraternity which says goodbye to an illustrious brother.
When this blog originated several months ago we assumed nobody would read it. Unfortunately, our recent piece on Scott Rothstein, the Fort Lauderdale lawyer suspected (BUT not yet formally charged) of funding his unbelievable philanthropy and political contributions with a massive Ponzi scheme, has changed all that. That item was picked up by newspapers and spread around the land. We therefore feel an obligation to set up some ground rules.
First, who we be. Gold
Coast magazine and its affiliates on the east coast of Florida are lifestyle magazines, directed to the kind of people Rothstein allegedly conned out of hundreds of millions. We focus on the affluent for the same reason Willie Sutton robbed banks. Rothstein gets little credit today, but he probably spread more money to the needy of South Florida than the government’s stimulus packages. Alas, the feds may take a different view of this modern-day Robin Hood.
Generally, our editorial fare is innocuous -- people dancing for disease, buying expensive cars, living in houses which make the Versailles look modest, etc. Occasionally we have gotten more serious, such as in 1980, when along with Washingtonian magazine, we were the first publication to connect alleged JFK assassin Lee Harvey Oswald to the CIA. Those articles, by former magazine partner Gaeton Fonzi, became the book “The Last Investigation,” an iconic work on the assassination that inspired numerous more recent researchers. In slow steps, recently accelerated by former Washington Post reporter Jeff Morley, our 1980 conclusions have been proved accurate. The CIA, if it did not do it, surely covered it up. But such weighty stories are rare in our pages.
We do try to make rational statements on public issues, such as education, transportation and the uniforms of sports teams. That is the kind of thing which will often appear in this blog.
We welcome comment, but we must adhere to the accepted standards of libel in publishing or rejecting views. The Scott Rothstein case, which has been prominent in alternative newspaper blogs, is an example of what we will not permit. Virulent anti-Semitism, or other ethnic slurs, malicious character defamation, profanity and vicious insults between respondents (who assume they know each other, despite the fictional blog names) will not be published here.
Neither will plagiarism. Nobody’s trying to please here, rather to edify, to instruct.*
* With a nostalgic nod to J.D. Salinger
Ten days ago, just a few days before his world exploded, Scott Rothstein was bouncing about a private cocktail party held by one of Fort Lauderdale’s wealthiest couples. We won’t mention the name, as it’s assumed nobody wants his or her name mentioned simultaneously with Scott Rothstein right now. He was dressed in a bright orange shirt that looked like it was custom made for the party. His outfit looked rich, if gaudy. Above all, Scott Rothstein wanted to make sure you knew he was rich. He was loud, as always, and hugging and kissing and patting the backs of Fort Lauderdale’s well to do. He was probably at this party because of his philanthropy (the kind of people who were at this party often met at charity events). Rothstein’s largesse in the charitable community gave him credibility and opened doors to the wealthy, just as his political donations opened doors to the politically powerful. He was overtly pleasant and sociable – until in a side conversation, somebody mentioned something about the press. He blurted out an expletive about the press and made a comment that was filled with irony, even before the events over the last few days, “F--- the press. They never tell the truth anyway.” Rothstein did not care for the press. It was not the first time Rothstein had snapped at mention of the press. They were growingly suspicious of Rothstein, and he hated that. In the past several months, he had done everything short of threatening to kill a local alternative newspaper reporter who was prodding into Rothstein’s doings.
That was Scott Rothstein, hobnobber to the rich and famous. A different side of Rothstein was on display a couple months ago at Charlie Palmer Steak House (no relation to Fort Lauderdale’s Charlie Palmer, who would not want his name mentioned in a Scott Rothstein story, even as a steak house) a chic power broker hangout in Washington, D.C. Rothstein was in D.C. for the swearing in of Sen. George Lemieux. His appearance itself was a bit of a shock as anyone who knows the two knows they are complete opposites in both style and substance. Several Republican insiders questioned whether Rothstein was even invited, or if he just showed up. At Charlie Palmer’s there were two groups of people sitting at tables, both having drinks before a reception for the senator later that night. In Rothstein’s group was Grant Smith (a firm lawyer and son of former Congressman Larry Smith), political operative Roger Stone (who also worked for Rothstein’s firm), and a couple other members of the Rothstein political posse. They were dressed to the political nines, expensive watches, designer shirts, the best suits. The only thing missing was a neon billboard proclaiming they were Washington power brokers. The sign might have been subtler.
At the other table were various past and present staffers, administrators and consultants of the Jeb Bush and Charlie Crist administrations. They weren’t big money guys. Like Lemieux, they had come up through the grass roots Republican Party ranks and were there to celebrate a big day for an old friend. There is a perception that politicians liked and counted on Scott Rothstein for money. The money part was probably true, as few people in Florida wrote bigger political checks than Rothstein, but Republican political staffers were deeply suspicious of Rothstein. Their comments this night included “things don’t add up with that guy,” “stay away from him,” and “where is he getting all this money?”
Rothstein soon approached the table of political staffers and singled out Shane Strum, the soon-to-be chief of staff for the Gov. Crist. “Mr. Strum, may I have a word with you,” Rothstein asked. He pulled Strum aside, put his arm on his shoulder and began to make a pitch for one of Rothstein’s clients. The staffers cringed. It looked like a scene from "The Godfather," and Strum clearly wanted none of it. He politely dismissed the request with one of a thousand vaguely non-committal phrases that all future chiefs of staff tend to master. If Scott Rothstein was giving the impression to the world that he was best friends with the political elite, the reality was far from that. Politicians took his money, and hoped this thing did not blow up on them. In the past several days, their fears appeared to have been realized and the race to return to Rothstein money is on. A half a dozen politicians pledged their returns just yesterday. Much has been made of Rothstein’s Republican connections, but his largest recent donations have been to Democratic gubernatorial candidate Alex Sink. He was often an equal-opportunity spender in his efforts to buy influence.
In the business community, suspicions of Rothstein ran deep. The county’s most prestigious business organization rejected his application for membership. They had nothing tangible against him other than “this guy really doesn’t add up.” The organization consisted of a bunch of Fort Lauderdale old timers who have seen a few con artists in their time. They were the most vocal opponents to Rothstein’s admission.
When Gold Coast magazine recently published its list of “50 Most Powerful People,” we interviewed dozens of Fort Lauderdale’s business and political elite, and all agreed he was powerful, and all were highly suspicious of his ethics and where he was getting his money. Even a great law firm, and great “business interests” don’t produce the kind of money that Scott Rothstein was throwing around town.
So when Stuart Rosenfeldt said two days ago that he was completely shocked Scott Rothstein may have stolen all the money from the firm and some outside investors, he officially became the first person in South Florida to identify himself as not being suspicious of Scott Rothstein. It’s hard to believe partners in that firm could work so closely with Rothstein, yet not wonder where Rothstein was getting all this money and the highly secretive manner in which he appears to have controlled the firms accounting. When you are riding that gravy train, maybe it doesn’t pay to ask too many questions – that is until the train goes off the track.
Remember the Miami Herald? There was a time when the Herald had statewide influence, and was especially strong from Palm Beach south. It certainly set the agenda for Broward County. Alas, it is hardly seen in Broward these days – at least not north of Hollywood where most of the action takes place. That once-honored paper has been in a slow steady retreat toward its namesake city, leaving behind the bodies, still breathing, of a number of distinguished staffers let go in the cutbacks.
We are pleased to report some of the staffers have come to life, joined by a number of other prominent names once associated with other news organizations. Broward Bulldog (www.browardbulldog.org) is the name and is goes online this week as a non-profit site dedicated to filling the void left by the decline of the major dailies. If things go according to plan, Bob Norman of New Times Broward/Palm Beach won’t be the only journalist breaking the juicy stories. Online journalism has been gaining attention, with a big spike recently for the "Daily Pulp" by Norman. Readership has doubled recently since he broke just about all the big corruption stories thrilling Broward County lobbyists. Former Sun-Sentinel political reporter Buddy Nevins also has an interesting blog,
The new group, organized by former Herald reporter Dan Christensen, has impressive credentials. He has spent several months lining up colleagues and financing. He points out the site is a work in progress, depending upon resources. Just because you are non-profit doesn’t mean writers don’t get paid, and this group has some strong names. Buddy Nevins is on the board of directors, along with Kevin Boyd, who was city editor of the old Hollywood Sun (a.k.a. Sun-Tattler) before Scripps let it go. Others are Jonathon King, former Sun-Sentinel reporter who has turned to mystery writing -- with good success. Another is Ellen Soteber, former managing editor of the Sun-Sentinel and more recently editor of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. She is back in Fort Lauderdale. Julie Kay, president of the Society of Professional Journalists of South Florida is also a board member. You may not see all these bylines, for some are basically surviving in public relations, but their advice and consent is valuable.
The biggest name of all is Michael Connelly, long a best-selling crime story writer. So long that many people forget he grew up in Fort Lauderdale and worked for the Sun-Sentinel before hitting it big in fiction. Connelly was an exceptional police reporter and was part of the team nominated for Pulitizer Prize for coverage of the Delta Flight 191 plane crash in the mid 1980s. According to Christensen, Connelly made a contribution to get Broward Bulldog off the ground.
“We plan to do authoritative local reporting, covering government, politics, education, business, the courts and public safety,” says Christensen. “Our focus will be what’s not being covered by our downsized daily newspapers, and what’s not being covered well. We’ll tell our readers what’s really going on behind the scenes.”
As for Mike Connelly’s involvement, Christensen adds: “He’s a former colleague and although he no longer lives in South Florida, he provided seed money to help us get up and running because he’s aware of the decline of local newspapers and cares about good journalism.”
The Sun-Sentinel deserves applause for its recent series on abuse of the elderly in and out of nursing homes by care givers who have criminal backgrounds. The paper should follow up with a report on another form of elder abuse, not by people called felons, but people called blood relatives. It may be just as common and involve considerably more money.
We hear at least one reporter is already working on one of the more sensational cases. The story of the former Broward County judge who befriended a feeble 80-something and wound up with much of her money, either for himself or his relatives. In this case there is even one of her relatives who is accused in court papers of aiding the judge, and accepting “hush money” in the process. It is about to get bigger. Maybe much bigger in terms of the money involved. Attorney William Scherer is representing the elderly woman and he plays hardball.
The case, if the facts are as alleged, appears to be one of the more outrageous of its class, but it is hardly isolated in South Florida. With so many wealthy old people on the border of dementia, with the strange combination of generosity and paranoia so often present, these very senior souls are natural targets. And unscrupulous relatives are natural predators.
But it goes on everywhere. We recently took a long vacation, making four stops to see old friends in the northeast. In three of the four visits our friends had horror stories about elderly relatives who were ripped off by their own family members, sometimes to the detriment of those in their wills – or who should have been in wills. Wills can be changed, and sometimes changed without elderly people understanding the impact of their actions. You only hear about it in celebrity cases, such as Anthony Marshall, just convicted of having Brooke Astor’s (she died at 105) will changed. But in less publicized cases, would-be heirs constantly have expensive and exhausting legal battles just trying to do what is right. In some cases financial institutions are incredibly negligent, failing to notice obvious red flags in the accounts of some of their longstanding clients.
Old people are suckers for schmooze. They can grow hostile to those actually taking care of them, terrified of being put in "the home," and at the same time they can be influenced by others far away, who ply them with long distance love and occasional sob stories, always with creamy toppings of nostalgia for the good old days when they were young and healthy. It is a serious problem, and while the subject is hot maybe the mainstream media can help contain it.
In a time when many public figures are embarrassing our community, it is well to remember and salute the exemplary life of a longtime Broward resident. Jack Cooney, war hero, successful businessman, family man, community leader, died this week at 88.
Although retired from business, Jack Cooney remained active in civic affairs almost until the end, living with a verve that traces to his early years and distinguished World War II career. Those beginnings were in Minnesota, where his mother died when he was 8 years old. They were living in St. Paul.
“My father took jobs when he was very young in order to transfer in his frosh year of high school to Cretin High, which was the equivalent of St. Thomas Aquinas in our area,” said his son, attorney David Cooney. “He worked his way through high school because he wanted the best education he could get. He played on a champion water polo team.”
Cretin was a military academy and Jack Cooney graduated as cadet colonel, the equivalent of being valedictorian. He won a scholarship to Notre Dame, but declined because he could not afford the room and books. Instead he attended the University of Minnesota. On graduation day in 1943 he wore his military uniform beneath his cap and gown. He was soon overseas.
Mark McCormick, president of this magazine’s parent company, recalled speaking to Cooney about his war experience:
“A couple years back I was at cocktail party with Jack Cooney. At the time Jack was 86 years old, and was known to most of us as a retired business executive turned community activist, a trusted voice of experience and leadership in the business and charitable community.
"I knew Jack had fought in the European theater, and as someone who spends most of his nights watching the History Channel, I was curious about his experience. I asked him what battles he was part of. He replied,' All of them.' There was no braggadocio in his tone. It was as matter of fact as it was accurate."
He landed with the 75th infantry division in Normandy, a few days after D-Day. He was supposed to be part of the army artillery but due to heavy casualties Mr. Cooney would be moved over to the infantry unit.
Soon Mr. Cooney was to replay the part of Alvin York (World War I hero) by convincing a dozen German soldiers with rifles who were hidden in the baseman of a French house to surrender without firing a shot. Mr. Cooney had approached the home alone with only his Colt .45. For this action he was awarded the Silver Star. A few months later he began a short political career. His outfit liberated a Belgian town, Dinant, and his commanding officer appointed him mayor for a week until a local official could take over.”
Years later he returned to Europe to be honored by the city. Taking over as temporary mayor happened several times as the Allies drove toward Germany. Cooney left the army with the rank of major and an impressive list of 14 decorations, beginning with the Silver Star and including two Bronze Stars and the Crown of Leopold from Belgium and the storied French Croix de Guerre. He left the service with the rank of major. Even by wartime standards, his rise in rank was remarkable.
After the war Cooney joined Univis Corporation, where he started in sales and ultimately rose to president. He brought his family to Fort Lauderdale in 1960 and immediately plunged into civic and charitable work. A notable achievement was helping save what is now known as the Honda Classic golf tournament. The tournament had begun in 1972 as the Jackie Gleason Inverrary Classic. Publicist Jack Drury, who represented Cooney for years, recalls the scenario. Says Drury:
“When Haft-Gaines pulled out as sponsor and we lost the Jackie Gleason contact, we were sitting with a tournament and no sponsor. The PGA was going to cut us out. Jack was directly responsible for getting American Motors to sponsor it for one year, then we got American Honda and they’ve been the sponsor for 27 years. Jack was chairman of the board of the foundation. He was always very community minded.”
For almost 50 years Jack Cooney was involved in numerous civic works. Among them were former chairman and long time board member of the Boys and Girls Club of Broward County, and member of the Broward Workshop, the Executives Association of Fort Lauderdale and the local Boy Scouts Council
Jack Cooney was married for 61 years to Peggy. They raised seven children and had 16 grandchildren and two great grandchildren. A mass of Christian Burial will be celebrated on Oct. 3 at 10 a.m. at St. John the Baptist Catholic Church, 4595 Bayview Dr., Fort Lauderdale.
