Kraft Brewed

As the Cold War moved through the late ‘50’s, America became obsessed with what became known as the “missile gap.” While it came out that the Soviets were not, as thought, way ahead in nuclear armament production, I fear we are now in a new kind of deficit to the Russians. Call it the Billionaire Behavior Gap.

This came to mind as breathless headlines alleged well-moneyed American men, including New England Patriots owner Bob Kraft, were patrons of Florida brothels. This, in and unto itself, would not raise that many eyebrows until one finds out where these acts are alleged to have occurred. When the name Jupiter emerged, I assumed that a group of these absurdly wealthy men had financed a space mission to the great planet where they could, um, rocket off, outside the prying eyes of anyone in the solar system. Not quite. It turns out that it was Jupiter, Florida. A brothel in a strip mall in Jupiter, Florida. I’m not trying to understate the serious cost of human trafficking, forced prostitution, money laundering, or any other aspects of these larger crime rings. I’m not even trying to demean strip malls. But Houston, we have problem.

Now wealthy men cavorting around with women who are either not their current wife/the wife of business rival/or of the world’s oldest profession has a long and distinguished history. William Randolph Hearst squired Marion Davies around; Nelson Rockefeller was “researching his art book” with a female assistant the night of his death. Sure it’s unseemly, but nothing unexpected—all part of the discrete culture of pied-à-terres off of Park Avenue and large suites at the local Four Seasons or St. Regis reserved for such trysts. In contrast, a quick search reveals a La Quinta Inn as high-end accommodation in Jupiter, Florida. I can only hope it’s at least beachfront.

And then there are the Russians. One oligarch publicly spent tens of millions of dollars on an apartment, ostensibly a gift for his daughter, at the famous 15 Central Park building while never really denying one of the perks would be to shield this asset from the wife he was divorcing. Another oligarch bought the Brooklyn Nets, angering New Yorkers only because he didn’t buy the Knicks and remove the despotic Dolan family from their reign of terror. Speaking of dictators, a few years back Vladimir Putin up and disappeared for a few days in order to visit his girlfriend in Switzerland who had just given birth to their love child. Perhaps Vlad was inspired by Kraft employee Tom Brady who had impregnated beautiful leggy model/actress Bridget Moynahan, only to turn around and take up with a new model. One that only needed to go by one name. And being his own kind of oligarch, Brady could fix things with plenty of child support.

And so where is the U.S. now? A former hedge-fund chief, another former c-level at Citibank, and the aforementioned NFL owner are tangled up in a retail human trafficking and sex ring. But with all that money, couldn’t they have just gone old school? Did they have some weird Hugh Grant envy, wanting to see how the other 99.99% live, or at least how they pick up hookers off Sunset Boulevard? Doesn’t any one of these three men want to be involved with an age appropriate (or at least the age of their adult daughter and not adult granddaughter) and beautiful woman? Elizabeth Hurley is still single.

But there is hope. Recently, three different NFL owners each bought themselves yachts that, collectively, cost $530 million. Nothing like the vastness of the ocean to hide your monkey business (unless you are Gary Hart). So our billionaires are now kind of like a scrappy bunch college kids playing against a well-financed and fearsome team of professionals. I can almost hear Al Michaels exclaiming, “Do you believe in miracles? Yes!”

© 2019 Alexander W. Stephens, All Rights Reserved