Chapter 8: The Empire Strikes Back

King Solomon ends his ode to the Woman of Valor by saying not once, but three times, how praiseworthy she is. While casually reading this three thousand year old Biblical poem, one might not pick up on how unusual this is. But to the Biblically knowledgeable, the mention of a word or concept three times in three lines is the equivalent of a giant, digital billboard flashing a bright message. King Solomon is loudly shouting this Woman’s praises from the rooftops. 

When reading my story, the story of a modern woman that lived in our time, and not some Biblical legend of antiquity, like Ruth, the praise I lavish upon Charlene might seem over the top to you. 

This chapter will help you see otherwise. 

I was soon to enter a very dark and hellish period in my life as the empire I had built turned on me. And because Charlene was my wife she would be coming along for the ride. Charlene’s loyalty, strength, frugality, positivity, love, understanding, forgiveness, encouragement, and respect during this time was superhuman, epically biblical.

Her behavior during this period cracked the shell of my unconscious conception of what marriage was. I had grown up witnessing bad marriages. With very traditional roles and not a lot of connection or true partnership. Between very negative people of damaged psyches. Mostly holocaust survivors and their children born immediately after the war. So they had an excuse.

Before we married I understood Charlene was unique. She was certainly nothing like the women I grew up around. And our relationship was nothing like those relationships either. We had both given up our backgrounds and history to be with each other. We were two lovers alone in the garden of our private world.

But through the difficulties of Charlene’s conversion and integration into my jewish world, I had unconsciously deferred to viewing Charlene and our relationship through the limiting and distorted conceptions I grew up with. It was ironic. I gave up that whole world for Charlene and then when I had her I tried to squeeze her into that box. 

As everything that I thought important and had built was stripped away or collapsed, and all that was left was Charlene standing by me, fighting at my side, the whole artificial construct and perspective that limited my love and our relationship broke apart. I started to wake up and remember the woman I married, the woman I traded my tribe for. 

But I get ahead of myself.   

The few years after my rumble in the jungle with the two armed carjackers were a whirlwind of deals and making money. I had built an empire. And now, like Simba, I felt it was time to go back “home”, after having run away with Charlene, a cat of a very different stripe. I wanted to reintegrate with my pride, (although proud is not really how I would have characterized my feelings towards it).

At least that’s what it felt like to move from West Orange, New Jersey, a modern orthodox community where we never integrated, to Monsey, New York, a much more traditional orthodox community, where we had friends, and which was very connected to the Brooklyn community I grew up in.

Moving back to Brooklyn itself was completely out of the question. Charlene and I both loved nature and the city was not our idea of a good life. Monsey on the other hand, had all the benefits of Brooklyn: traditional orthodox schools, kosher food everywhere, and community, while still retaining a beautiful, almost rural, natural setting that we both wanted to live in.

Growing up a rich kid in the orthodox community was very high status. The schools, shuls, and other community organizations were all privately funded by rich community members. And as the son of one of those big supporters it was pretty hard for me to get thrown out of school. I know because I tried and just couldn’t make it happen. 

Multiple times I did things with others that got them thrown out but I was let off with a very stern warning and suspension. After stripping the bullshit out about how my case was different from theirs, the warning was basically to make sure my father didn’t lose his money or the school would be less tolerant.

Although I benefited from this kid-glove treatment, I understood it was unearned and unfair. It completely stripped my self-respect, and I resented the system. But I also missed the prestige. 

And I knew moving back, building a mansion and becoming a supporter of one of these schools would mean that I had made it and was a winner. And like my father who I idolized, I would now be earning the label of winner rather than being the stupid rich kid riding his father’s coattails.  

I found a suitably impressive property for a man of my victorious status. A beautiful, three acre piece, big enough for a mansion and horse barn (a status symbol the other winners could not easily duplicate because it required someone that rode horses). And because the lot was virgin woods, completely hidden behind the other houses that lined the street, it was going to have a 200-foot long, tree-lined, “flagpole” driveway just to reach the body of the property. And another winding 200 feet to reach the house.

Because a true mansion cannot be seen from the street, other than for its grand entrance gates. A true mansion also has a name, usually on a metal plate on one of the pillars of those entrance gates. Ours was to be Tall Oak Meadow, named for a gigantic and majestic oak tree on the property that was to be a focal point of the landscape. 

This was a big project custom designed for someone like me. It required zoning approvals, engineering and drainage work, and all sorts of land use and planning work that would take at least a year and a half. Before starting construction. We even had to map every tree on the property, (trunk size, height, species, condition, and exact placement on the site). There were hundreds, and we needed approval for every one removed. 

And because we required zoning variances the surrounding neighbors had the right to come to the public hearings and challenge the plan. And boy did they. Our project ruffled many feathers.

In a very humorous interchange at one of our many hearings, one of the neighbors complaining (the planning board called it “testifying”), about how many trees were being removed actually used the words “my trees on his property”. (His mind had turned the woods behind his house into a national park that would remain woods forever, forgetting it was private property - that now belonged to me). My answer to his testimony was simply “your trees on my property?!?” The board members smirked at that.

It was a huge amount of work but trophy properties require a huge amount of work, and besides, I loved every second of it. Planning and zoning boards were my playground. And Charlene and I both loved designing houses and properties. We had a fabulous time designing this one and what a house it would have been! 

An 8,000+ square foot, cream limestone, Beaux-Arts mansion with slate and copper, mansard roof and oval dormers. The entire center of the house dominated by a grand, three-story, oval spiral staircase, surrounded by arched balconies, under a large oval skylight.

And a master bedroom balcony overlooking the barn and paddocks which were downhill a ways. So I could have coffee there Shabbat morning watching the horses graze in the morning sun. Surveying my kingdom like Brendan Fraser in Bedazzled when he woke up as a south-american druglord.

It was straight out of The Age of Innocence. (Charlene loved period movies, and I loved watching with her. Pride and Prejudice and Gone With The Wind were two of her favorites). It was my Age of Guilt. Or gilt, (although all the railings were to be black wrought iron, gilt being way too gaudy for our taste).

And I had an excellent rationalization for building it too. (Which is usually the case when one goes into a folly of this size).

I would be doubling my money tax-free because of the sweat equity. As a developer and builder I was doing everything myself. Whereas if any other winner wanted to build this they would have to pay a builder double what I was paying. Plus, even the half that I was paying would be a “business expense” running through my company because engineering and construction costs were literally my business. Making my effective after-tax cost something like 25% of market cost. 

The financial case for building this white (cream) elephant was airtight.

And because this elephant’s gestation period was to be around three years, we rented a house in the neighborhood from an old friend of my father in the meantime. We wanted our children to start school where we were in the process of putting down our monumental roots, and at the time Yali was four and soon to start kindergarten.

I was on top of the world. Building a high profile mansion, driving a BMW 750, hobnobbing with other winners, and making waves in my new Monsey pond. And always building! Although specializing in Newark, I had a voracious and insatiable appetite for new projects and had outgrown that market. I branched out and now had projects all over northern and central New Jersey and in multiple other states as well.

I was generating tremendous cash flow and rolling all of it into new deals. I didn’t diversify. My deals were money makers, I had complete and expert knowledge of my markets, and I was in full control of decision making. Why would I make investments where I had limited knowledge and zero control? And although our personal lifestyle was very comfortable we didn’t spend a lot of money compared to my cash flow. So my company’s growth was exponential.  

And then the market crashed. 

If only it would have happened in one fell swoop. But no, it was death by a thousand cuts and very slow. Until the actual crash which ironically felt sudden at the time. Looking back, I actually saw the market turn before anybody. Two full years before. In June 2006. But I ignored it. If I had my current experience back then, every one of my internal alarms would have been ringing and I would have gotten out by the end of that year. 

But at the time I was cocky and foolish. And couldn’t conceive of a world where everything I had was worth nothing. I was far from unique. Nobody really knew anything until Bear Stearns collapsed in March 2008. Many people still didn’t understand then and needed the collapse of Lehman Bros. in September to see the writing on the wall. But by that time the wall had already collapsed.

And even then I kept going! Riding the plane right into the ground in late 2008. Because I was like a frog in hot water. For me it was getting progressively worse over the past two years, from late 2006. It started with slower sales and no growth in the sales price. And then prices started dropping. And incentives went higher. And commissions went higher. And financing became harder. And then in late 2008 all construction financing suddenly froze.

My banks refused to continue funding my construction loans. In the middle of construction. My entire operation was based on cash flow from construction financing until the sale of a completed property at which time I paid off the financing and all of my investment plus took profits. 

I had no income producing properties at all. But I had massive amounts of ongoing expenses. Like real estate tax bills on countless properties. And millions of dollars in open construction invoices. And still I kept going, paying, hoping things would turn around. Until I literally ran out of money and things got really ugly.

I was sued simultaneously by around fifteen suppliers. And five banks. And my best friend (at the time), a partner in many of my deals, who sued me in three separate courts in two states. Close to twenty five lawsuits. Suing me personally as well as corporate because as is standard in development deals I had signed personal guarantees on all these obligations.

I went from being on top of the world to being ground into the dust. The humiliation and degradation was epic. I couldn’t even pay rent in the house we were renting. My landlord was furious but because he was my father’s friend he didn’t feel like he could kick me out. But he made it clear that I was a schnorrer stealing from him and that he felt trapped by me. I felt trapped too. And cornered.

Because I was a workaholic most of my personal relationships were business-based, so those were gone as well. Some winners in the community even started actively avoiding me. (To winners a loser is more contagious than Covid).   

I was still driving my 750 but couldn’t afford to fill up the gas tank which at the time cost $100. Or pay my monthly lease payments. And then one Saturday night towards the end of 2008 the doorbell rang, signaling the beginning of one of the most humiliating experiences of my life. 

My mother-in-law who was visiting from Florida to help with Ari, who had been born that September, a few months earlier, answered the door. BMW Financial had sent a tow-truck repo-man who was now asking for me. He had pulled my 750 out of the driveway before ringing the bell and it was now resting on his flatbed out in the street. 

(Normally he would have just taken off because these scenes tend to get violent with people upset that their cars are being taken away. But he felt safe in our quiet neighborhood of docile orthodox jews, and so he came to my door). 

He told me the car was no longer on my property and was now legally in his possession. After warning me against doing anything crazy, he generously offered for me to climb up on the flatbed to remove my personal belongings from the car. Which I did. Talk about the climb of shame. Champions and winners have podiums. And losers have flatbed, repo tow-trucks. 

My mother-in-law all the while watching smugly from the door. The mother-in-law that never liked that I stole her daughter to New York. Now witnessing my utter degradation. And calling Charlene to the door to witness it too. When Charlene saw what was going on she immediately walked away, went to distract the kids, and told her mother to walk away as well. But she didn't listen. 

Charlene knew I was a proud man and did not want to add to my humiliation by witnessing it. Nor did she bring it up afterward, understanding my bitterness and knowing the last thing I'd want to do is discuss it. She didn’t complain that I embarrassed her in front of her mother or the neighbors (the repo was quite the spectacle in the super quiet cul-de-sac we lived in and I know she was utterly humiliated together with me). 

She didn’t panic that we were poor and couldn’t pay our bills. She didn’t ask to discuss details that she knew would just grind me down. Because she trusted me to provide. She gently offered non-judgmental, love and acceptance. Without it feeling like pity which would have killed me. Her trust that I would handle things and protect her and our babies was what gave me the strength to keep going. 

Her mother on the other hand was happy to add to my humiliation. I said before that I was defensive and suspicious of some in Charlene’s family and I wasn’t wrong to be. Charlene told me years later that her mother took this opportunity (among some others) to try to convince Charlene to “come home” to Florida. To leave me and break our family up. That she would help Charlene as much as she needed. 

Charlene said she was very angry at her mother, viewing her as a home-wrecker when things got tough. Like her mother had done to their own family when Charlene was a child. After a financial setback, her mother had split the family, staying in New Jersey herself while her husband moved to Florida, and sending Charlene and the younger kids to live with extended family in a third state. This was when Charlene first started taking care of her younger siblings, when she was around seven years old. 

This was one of the hardest periods, if not the hardest, in Charlene’s life. Harder even then immediately after, when her family was all settled in Florida and Charlene remained her siblings’ caretaker for a few years. Because at least then the family was together. This episode caused Charlene a lot of trauma and had a defining impact on her psyche. 

And when her mother tried to convince her to leave me it dredged up those ugly memories. She resented her mother for not acknowledging the damage she caused, those many years earlier. For not learning anything at all from the past. And now trying to convince Charlene to do the same thing to her own family. But Charlene was nothing like her mother. Charlene was steadfast and loyal. Charlene was my ride or die.  

The financial situation didn’t get better after this. Quite the opposite. Cash became so tight I remember one morning looking in the fridge to see how much milk we had. I knew Charlene would ask me to pick up a container if we were low. And on that particular day I didn’t even have enough cash for milk.

I was in hell. Like God’s curses in the Bible, in the morning I yearned for the peace of the night before, and at night I yearned for the peace of the day before. I felt hunted and desperate. But I did not share my desperation with Charlene. I knew one way or the other I was going to provide for her and our family. Even if I had to mug an old lady (safer than mugging an old man).

And although Charlene was aware of the general situation she never asked for specifics. She said then at the time and has always said so since then that she never doubted that I would provide for her and the children. She said that from the day we got together she never lost a moment’s sleep worrying about us, knowing that I had her covered and that she could rely on me.

I know this is true because of how she acted under this enormous pressure. She was always calm, always happy. Not second-guessing me, asking me if I thought of this or that. Knowing deep down that I was doing everything I could and she was fine with that. 

And she was always looking to help us through saving money. In the summer of 2009 we were in the teeth of our financial storm. And Charlene was taking care of three babies, Ari was 9 months, Miles was 4 and Yali was 7. We had to figure out how to entertain them. I couldn’t afford day camps and we couldn’t keep them cooped up in the house all summer. Even if we wanted to, I couldn't afford the air conditioning.

We decided the only thing that made sense was Charlene taking them for an awesome summer vacation to Florida. We still owned a condo there that had a swimming pool and the kids could go every day to Disney for free because Charlene’s father worked there. So the kids could have the greatest summer ever and it would cost us next to nothing.

Charlene drove down to Florida by herself with three kids and a dog because I couldn’t leave my lawsuits for the time it would take for me to drive down with them and fly back. Plus I didn’t have money for the airline ticket back.

It was shocking how little money Charlene spent that summer. Every week I sent her what I could afford and that’s what she had to work with. As she had done with our wedding and with every party we’ve ever made together, she never negotiated or argued over the amount I offered. She always accepted it and said she’ll make it work. The kids ate a lot of macaroni that summer.

As a treat she would take the kids to a matinee movie once a week. The tickets were $1 each and she brought microwave popcorn, candy and soda from home. The whole event cost her $10. Charlene kept our family afloat and happy with the tiny amounts of cash I was dribbling out to her. And not only kept afloat, but that was one of our children’s favorite summers ever! They had no idea the pressure and stress we were under. 

What a testament to Charlene’s character! She was alone with three little kids, all summer, without me to help at all, with the tiniest amount of money and no idea how much I’ll be able to send the week after. She never complained to me or anyone else about how hard it was for her. She shouldered her burden in silence and positivity, like a queen and warrior. In true partnership with me.    

Always encouraging me and telling me it wasn’t my fault. That the real estate collapse would have destroyed my business no matter what I would have done differently. Like it would have destroyed the banks if they didn’t receive a bailout from the Fed.

I remember a call with American Express demanding that I pay what I owed them. It was over $300,000. (I used to pay a lot of my construction bills with my Amex for the points, I had millions at the time). Saying how irresponsible and unethical it was that I owed this money and wasn’t paying them. And didn’t I feel a moral obligation to them. 

This was days after they received something like a ten billion dollar bailout from the federal government! I didn’t feel a moral obligation to them, quite the opposite. I felt moral outrage at their attitude. How clueless and tone-deaf! I told them as soon as I received a federal bailout like they did I would immediately call them to negotiate a settlement.    

Charlene was right that there was very little I could have done for my company to survive this collapse. But I didn’t have to have all my eggs in that one basket. I could have had some money saved, not tied up in the company. Or I could have had some income producing property that would not have been affected by the collapse because of positive cash flow. 

So she wasn’t totally correct. But I appreciated her generous viewpoint nonetheless. And I appreciated her belief and trust. You can’t fake believing in somebody. Anxiety or negativity would leak through. She truly believed in me and trusted me. And it was this belief that gave me the strength to fight, the strength to carry on and not give up. 

Every day was a struggle to find some cash, any tiny bit still contained in the empire of projects and properties that I owned. There were many places to look. Deposits, escrows, fees, all sorts of things. I had close to a million dollars deposited just in pre-paid construction permit fees on projects that were now never going to be built. 

That money was basically lost because municipalities, especially Newark, were not giving back those fees. My closest friend, who used to work for me before we went bust, insisted I try to get some of the permit money back. I told him it was a waste of time and it would never happen. He answered what do you have to lose? You have all the time in the world, what you don’t have is money.

And so I filed requests asking for various fees to be returned. Basically to shut him up because I knew there was no way I would ever get any of that money back.

And then one day, maybe nine months later, an envelope came from Newark. Nothing unusual in that. I received tens of envelopes daily from Newark and other municipalities in New Jersey. Tax bills, water and sewer bills, and others. Plus all the late notices for past unpaid bills. But this envelope looked different. I opened it and started crying. 

It was a check from the city of Newark for close to $100,000. Returning some of the fees I paid in advance to the water department for hookups. I wasn’t crazy when I said it would never happen. The return actually required a city council vote. Apparently, the head of the water department, who I was friends with before my fall, (and who became infamous soon after in the Obama water quality scandal), felt bad for me. She spent her own political capital to get my request on the council agenda and actively lobbied council members to vote me back this money. 

I never asked her to because it would never happen in the real world. This was a miracle from God. At the time I was in so much darkness and about to collapse. I was drowning in bills and costs that had piled up for months and I couldn’t continue even a day longer. I was at the end of my rope. And then at the last second, a hand came out of the sky and lifted me out of the water. At least for the moment.   

It was a long time before I stabilized financially and there were quite a few other times I was close to the end and was saved in what seemed to be unnatural and supernatural ways. 

During all this time, I was miserable, depressed, angry. I was hunted and desperate. I was a loser. And Charlene had every right to be bitter and resentful of me. And negative. But she wasn’t any of those things.

To Charlene I was a fighter, a hero that had been dealt a hard hand. And she had no doubt I would do whatever it took to get us through it.

Taking care of  Charlene and the kids during this time gave me purpose when I was at my lowest. Her respect and trust gave me dignity when I felt none. Her frugality helped us survive when we were collapsing. Her loyalty gave me strength. Her positivity and encouragement gave me hope and optimism. Her love and understanding gave me the will to go on.

I would not have survived this period without Charlene. My warrior princess. My heart. I probably owed her my life and certainly owed her my happiness. 

Going through this hellish experience together with Charlene stripped my unconscious, limiting conceptions of marriage away and opened me up to a new relationship with her. I no longer saw her as a responsibility and started to once again see her as the beautiful, soulmate partner that God had lovingly given me as a gift to cherish.

This was the beginning of my spiritual transformation. My long journey to an entirely new way of living, of being. It was the first step towards the light that would ultimately include changing business fields, lifestyle, dreams, and eventually bring us to Israel. The land of dreams, of redemption.