logybogy
October 4th, 2005, 07:28 AM
This is very weird....
Former Mayor Daoud: Deal no 'steal'
Miami Beach's former mayor and a 'Howard Hughes-esque' retiree are fighting in court over a deal cut over dinner and drinks.
By ELINOR J. BRECHER AND SCOTT HIAASEN
ebrecher@herald.com
Given Miami Beach's celestial real-estate prices, a 3,527-square-foot house on a 16,000-square-foot lot within strolling distance of Lincoln and Alton roads would be a bargain at just over $1 million.
At $525,000, it's a steal.
And that, says the retired podiatrist who owns it, is exactly what Miami Beach's felonious former mayor, Alex Daoud, is trying to do.
Dr. Jordan Schwartz, 70, of the 1700 block of Michigan Avenue claims in court that Daoud, 62, who lives across the street, got him drunk on April 20, slipped a sales contract under his nose, lied about its purpose and wheedled a signature out of him. The purchaser is Bouganvilla Investments, president: Kelly Daoud, 36, Alex's daughter. She incorporated the company on April 19 and signed the contract April 26.
Schwartz claims he never intended to sell and signed only because Alex Daoud said he could use the contract as a ruse to lower his property taxes.
Bouganvilla is suing to enforce the contract, claiming Schwartz reneged in order to seek a better deal.
Neither Alex nor Kelly Daoud nor her lawyer, Bernardo Burstein, would discuss the case, but through his lawyer, Alex Daoud denies any wrongdoing.
Schwartz has asked the court to toss the suit, claiming that Alex Daoud deceived him and exploited ''a vulnerable adult . . . suffering the infirmities of aging.'' In a deposition, he calls the contract ''a false document'' and a ``fraud.''
Schwartz is a bony five-foot-three, his legs hardly thicker than baseball bats. Scraggly gray hair hangs to his shoulders. He shuffles around the property in boxers and plastic sandals.
As a podiatrist until 1985, he pared the toenails of senior citizens. Now he's a senior citizen, and no one is returning the favor.
His house is awash in the tell-tale clutter of a compulsive hoarder: bagged copies of The Herald stacked like cordwood; regiments of rusting metal file cabinets, television stands and office armoires; piles of threadbare couch cushions.
$270,000 IN '92
Schwartz, who never married, bought the place for $270,000 in 1992 with his widowed mother, Sylvia. He says he lives on proceeds from her trust and $201 a month in Social Security.
Schwartz ''always had a Howard Hughes-esque quality, but in the seven years I've been here, he's really deteriorated,'' says Jay Levy, a neighbor.
He says Schwartz has loaned acquaintances ''lots of money'' and let ''rather unsavory characters'' live on the property alongside tenants of his garage apartment.
But Alex Daoud's lawyer, Jonathan Meltz, says his client believes Schwartz is ``perfectly lucid. Eccentric? Yes. Competency? Never been an issue.''
Meltz says his client isn't part of the deal and feels betrayed by a former friend.
Schwartz ''is trying to smear Alex to try to create a defense in a lawsuit,'' Meltz declares. The Daouds' lawyers don't deny that Schwartz is peculiar, but the complaint says -- and Kelly's lawyer suggests in a deposition -- that Schwartz is not only sane but devious.
They say he hoodwinked the tax collector for years by misrepresenting his garage apartment as a guest house when he was renting it out.
What's not debatable is that the property -- a 65-year-old, historically protected house on a double lot -- is worth vastly more than $525,000, partly because of the apartment, which real estate agents says is rare for a property zoned single-family residential in a mostly multifamily neighborhood.
The whole property was assessed this year for $790,892, excluding three exemptions worth $75,000. The tax assessor's market value is $1,208,144.
Schwartz says Alex Daoud has had his eye on it ''for many years,'' which Daoud denies.
''Why didn't he buy it in 1992?'' Schwartz wonders. ``Maybe he was in jail.''
That was the next year, when ex-Mayor Daoud began serving 18 months of a five-year sentence for tax fraud, obstructing justice, taking bribes from constituents and money laundering.
Before heading to prison, he and Kelly, a lawyer, bought the 23-unit building at 1777 Michigan Ave., where Alex lives. On June 6, Schwartz filed a police report, accusing Alex Daoud of fraud.
CON ARTISTS' TARGET
Norman Marcus, a Plantation lawyer, is Schwartz's cousin and administers Sylvia Schwartz's trust. He says that since her death, Jordan has fallen prey to opportunists and con artists.
''There's no question he needs assistance,'' says Marcus, ``but he rejected it from me and accepted it from the wrong people.''
Marcus used to have power of attorney over Schwartz's financial affairs but says that Schwartz ''fired'' him three years ago. He's not sure why.
Schwartz's biggest problem, says Marcus: ``inability to tell friend from foe.''
Others have agreed.
A couple of years ago, the woman who runs an assisted living facility on the block called the Department of Children & Families. She had grown suspicious of a prospective tenant's motives for hauling off heaps of Schwartz's clutter.
After Schwartz signed the sales contract, someone else called DCF, which launched an elder-abuse investigation.
In his Aug. 5 response to the lawsuit, Schwartz claimed to be ''under Protective Supervision [sic]'' by DCF ''due to repeated episodes of exploitation perpetrated upon him by neighbors'' and others.
Investigator Ola Lasisi closed the case in late August, with the recommendation that DCF continue to provide services, and in a Sept. 10 deposition, Schwartz said he was under DCF protection.
Then he volunteered: ``That was the idea of my counselors.''
When Kelly's lawyer asked, ''That was your counsel's idea after the lawsuit was filed?'' Schwartz replied: ``Yes.''
Lawrence Zietz, an associate of Norman Marcus who represents Schwartz in the lawsuit, said he ``wanted DCF to stay involved because Jordan Schwartz is being exploited.''
To hear Schwartz tell it, his problems began with his 2005 property-tax bill: $19,931.25, up $7,000 from last year. His taxes went up drastically for two years in a row after the assessor discovered he was collecting rent, which he had not disclosed.
(His last tenant: a Herald reporter who moved last month. She paid $900.)
He went before the valuation board asking for a reduction, and was turned down because of the rental arrangement.
Among those who took note of his grumbling were Ignacio Perez-Galan and Augusta Cecilia Price, a couple in their 70s. Schwartz once considered them friends but in court papers calls them ``agents of the Plaintiff corporation.''
`I SIGNED IT'
On April 20, Schwartz says, the couple showed up with Alex Daoud to take him to dinner. He says they went to the Royal Bavarian Schnitzel House on Northeast 79th Street, where ``they presented this paper. They gave me four glasses of wine. Red. . . . Like a dope, I signed it. . . . This other couple said I should use it with my taxes. . . .I don't usually drink. He pushed it in front of me.''
Schwartz says the couple and Alex Daoud told him a low-ball contract would convince the board that his property was over-valued.
Neither Perez-Galan nor Price could be reached.
However, Meltz says the dinner wasn't a set-up and that Schwartz did more than just sign the deal; he scribbled a $25,000 counteroffer.
He's ''not bananas,'' Meltz insists. ``Somebody who wants $25,000 more is knowingly making a counteroffer.''
Marcus says Schwartz upped the ante ''to make it seem more plausible'' to the valuation board.
Soon after, says Schwartz, ``I get in the mail a copy from his lawyer and, lo and behold, the Daoud name is on there! I don't know if Kelly knows it's fraudulent. She's a nice lady.''
Throughout his deposition, he insists she ``has nothing to do with this.''
SIGNED AFFIDAVIT
However, at Kelly Daoud's request, Schwartz signed a May 30 affidavit affirming he owed no inheritance taxes on the house -- suggesting that he intended to sell it to her, Meltz said.
Only a week later, Schwartz went to the police.
Marcus says he wanted Schwartz to sell the place after his mother died, ''and I'd put him in an adult living facility or a little condo,'' but Schwartz refused.
''He can't leave this house,'' Marcus says. ``It's his security. I can't conceive of him voluntarily selling.''
Former Mayor Daoud: Deal no 'steal'
Miami Beach's former mayor and a 'Howard Hughes-esque' retiree are fighting in court over a deal cut over dinner and drinks.
By ELINOR J. BRECHER AND SCOTT HIAASEN
ebrecher@herald.com
Given Miami Beach's celestial real-estate prices, a 3,527-square-foot house on a 16,000-square-foot lot within strolling distance of Lincoln and Alton roads would be a bargain at just over $1 million.
At $525,000, it's a steal.
And that, says the retired podiatrist who owns it, is exactly what Miami Beach's felonious former mayor, Alex Daoud, is trying to do.
Dr. Jordan Schwartz, 70, of the 1700 block of Michigan Avenue claims in court that Daoud, 62, who lives across the street, got him drunk on April 20, slipped a sales contract under his nose, lied about its purpose and wheedled a signature out of him. The purchaser is Bouganvilla Investments, president: Kelly Daoud, 36, Alex's daughter. She incorporated the company on April 19 and signed the contract April 26.
Schwartz claims he never intended to sell and signed only because Alex Daoud said he could use the contract as a ruse to lower his property taxes.
Bouganvilla is suing to enforce the contract, claiming Schwartz reneged in order to seek a better deal.
Neither Alex nor Kelly Daoud nor her lawyer, Bernardo Burstein, would discuss the case, but through his lawyer, Alex Daoud denies any wrongdoing.
Schwartz has asked the court to toss the suit, claiming that Alex Daoud deceived him and exploited ''a vulnerable adult . . . suffering the infirmities of aging.'' In a deposition, he calls the contract ''a false document'' and a ``fraud.''
Schwartz is a bony five-foot-three, his legs hardly thicker than baseball bats. Scraggly gray hair hangs to his shoulders. He shuffles around the property in boxers and plastic sandals.
As a podiatrist until 1985, he pared the toenails of senior citizens. Now he's a senior citizen, and no one is returning the favor.
His house is awash in the tell-tale clutter of a compulsive hoarder: bagged copies of The Herald stacked like cordwood; regiments of rusting metal file cabinets, television stands and office armoires; piles of threadbare couch cushions.
$270,000 IN '92
Schwartz, who never married, bought the place for $270,000 in 1992 with his widowed mother, Sylvia. He says he lives on proceeds from her trust and $201 a month in Social Security.
Schwartz ''always had a Howard Hughes-esque quality, but in the seven years I've been here, he's really deteriorated,'' says Jay Levy, a neighbor.
He says Schwartz has loaned acquaintances ''lots of money'' and let ''rather unsavory characters'' live on the property alongside tenants of his garage apartment.
But Alex Daoud's lawyer, Jonathan Meltz, says his client believes Schwartz is ``perfectly lucid. Eccentric? Yes. Competency? Never been an issue.''
Meltz says his client isn't part of the deal and feels betrayed by a former friend.
Schwartz ''is trying to smear Alex to try to create a defense in a lawsuit,'' Meltz declares. The Daouds' lawyers don't deny that Schwartz is peculiar, but the complaint says -- and Kelly's lawyer suggests in a deposition -- that Schwartz is not only sane but devious.
They say he hoodwinked the tax collector for years by misrepresenting his garage apartment as a guest house when he was renting it out.
What's not debatable is that the property -- a 65-year-old, historically protected house on a double lot -- is worth vastly more than $525,000, partly because of the apartment, which real estate agents says is rare for a property zoned single-family residential in a mostly multifamily neighborhood.
The whole property was assessed this year for $790,892, excluding three exemptions worth $75,000. The tax assessor's market value is $1,208,144.
Schwartz says Alex Daoud has had his eye on it ''for many years,'' which Daoud denies.
''Why didn't he buy it in 1992?'' Schwartz wonders. ``Maybe he was in jail.''
That was the next year, when ex-Mayor Daoud began serving 18 months of a five-year sentence for tax fraud, obstructing justice, taking bribes from constituents and money laundering.
Before heading to prison, he and Kelly, a lawyer, bought the 23-unit building at 1777 Michigan Ave., where Alex lives. On June 6, Schwartz filed a police report, accusing Alex Daoud of fraud.
CON ARTISTS' TARGET
Norman Marcus, a Plantation lawyer, is Schwartz's cousin and administers Sylvia Schwartz's trust. He says that since her death, Jordan has fallen prey to opportunists and con artists.
''There's no question he needs assistance,'' says Marcus, ``but he rejected it from me and accepted it from the wrong people.''
Marcus used to have power of attorney over Schwartz's financial affairs but says that Schwartz ''fired'' him three years ago. He's not sure why.
Schwartz's biggest problem, says Marcus: ``inability to tell friend from foe.''
Others have agreed.
A couple of years ago, the woman who runs an assisted living facility on the block called the Department of Children & Families. She had grown suspicious of a prospective tenant's motives for hauling off heaps of Schwartz's clutter.
After Schwartz signed the sales contract, someone else called DCF, which launched an elder-abuse investigation.
In his Aug. 5 response to the lawsuit, Schwartz claimed to be ''under Protective Supervision [sic]'' by DCF ''due to repeated episodes of exploitation perpetrated upon him by neighbors'' and others.
Investigator Ola Lasisi closed the case in late August, with the recommendation that DCF continue to provide services, and in a Sept. 10 deposition, Schwartz said he was under DCF protection.
Then he volunteered: ``That was the idea of my counselors.''
When Kelly's lawyer asked, ''That was your counsel's idea after the lawsuit was filed?'' Schwartz replied: ``Yes.''
Lawrence Zietz, an associate of Norman Marcus who represents Schwartz in the lawsuit, said he ``wanted DCF to stay involved because Jordan Schwartz is being exploited.''
To hear Schwartz tell it, his problems began with his 2005 property-tax bill: $19,931.25, up $7,000 from last year. His taxes went up drastically for two years in a row after the assessor discovered he was collecting rent, which he had not disclosed.
(His last tenant: a Herald reporter who moved last month. She paid $900.)
He went before the valuation board asking for a reduction, and was turned down because of the rental arrangement.
Among those who took note of his grumbling were Ignacio Perez-Galan and Augusta Cecilia Price, a couple in their 70s. Schwartz once considered them friends but in court papers calls them ``agents of the Plaintiff corporation.''
`I SIGNED IT'
On April 20, Schwartz says, the couple showed up with Alex Daoud to take him to dinner. He says they went to the Royal Bavarian Schnitzel House on Northeast 79th Street, where ``they presented this paper. They gave me four glasses of wine. Red. . . . Like a dope, I signed it. . . . This other couple said I should use it with my taxes. . . .I don't usually drink. He pushed it in front of me.''
Schwartz says the couple and Alex Daoud told him a low-ball contract would convince the board that his property was over-valued.
Neither Perez-Galan nor Price could be reached.
However, Meltz says the dinner wasn't a set-up and that Schwartz did more than just sign the deal; he scribbled a $25,000 counteroffer.
He's ''not bananas,'' Meltz insists. ``Somebody who wants $25,000 more is knowingly making a counteroffer.''
Marcus says Schwartz upped the ante ''to make it seem more plausible'' to the valuation board.
Soon after, says Schwartz, ``I get in the mail a copy from his lawyer and, lo and behold, the Daoud name is on there! I don't know if Kelly knows it's fraudulent. She's a nice lady.''
Throughout his deposition, he insists she ``has nothing to do with this.''
SIGNED AFFIDAVIT
However, at Kelly Daoud's request, Schwartz signed a May 30 affidavit affirming he owed no inheritance taxes on the house -- suggesting that he intended to sell it to her, Meltz said.
Only a week later, Schwartz went to the police.
Marcus says he wanted Schwartz to sell the place after his mother died, ''and I'd put him in an adult living facility or a little condo,'' but Schwartz refused.
''He can't leave this house,'' Marcus says. ``It's his security. I can't conceive of him voluntarily selling.''