If you thought it was tough finding a decent birthday gift for your spouse (Pro Tip: For the love of God, don’t get her a Roomba. A decade later, I’m still dealing with the fallout.), imagine buying a birthday present for a billionaire.
What do you buy a guy who blows through your net worth every time he visits Vegas? Like, how does that even work?
That was your scribe’s dilemma 15 or so years ago. And to make matters worse, I didn’t know the billionaire all that well: I was hired to run marketing and PR for one of his acquisitions earlier in the year, but we didn’t really socialize too much outside of the office. (Other than political stuff. He actually pulled some strings and forced the city’s chamber of commerce to add me to their board of directors, because he was also on the board, and I guess he enjoyed my company.)
This billionaire isn’t famous, so his name doesn’t matter. (His wallet played a key role bringing the Republican National Convention to Tampa Bay in 2012.) And it’s not as if he was frivolous with money; if he wanted a new toy, he’d simply buy it. Some of his cars were jaw-droppingly gorgeous.
So what does a guy like ME get a guy like THAT?
Well, I knew some of his favorite toys were in the music world: He spent lavishly on his music studio and record label. (“Scott,” he once said to me, “do you wanna know how to make a small fortune in music? Begin with a big fortune! I gave those [colorful word for a certain part of the tooshie] an unlimited budget — and they went over it!”)
Plus, he had an emotional connection to music: Before he became wealthy, he was a young Marine fighting in Vietnam. Like far too many Americans, he was badly wounded in combat, and spent over a year in a military hospital. An old guitar was all he had for company.
And for sanity.
Music meant something magical to him.
Plus, I also knew that the owner of one of the PR firms I used to work at had a tie-in with the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. So, I figured, why not pull a few strings — and surprise this music-loving billionaire with a special recognition from the Hall?
How cool would THAT be?!
I made a few calls: My old PR boss was delighted to help. The wheels were in motion: The billionaire was gonna get a letter of recognition from the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame (placed in a gorgeous frame, of course) and a special jacket from the Hall that’s not available anywhere else.
Here’s where I made my mistake: As a courtesy, I told my direct boss what I was planning. See, I didn’t send progress reports to the billionaire, but to this ex-Vegas casino executive that the billionaire hired to manage his entertainment properties. (Fun fact: This ex-Vegas executive had also worked for Donald Trump. He’s the one who told me about Trump’s trip to South America — and the seven-star casino that never came to be.)
Right after I told him, it got uncomfortably quiet.
About a day later, he called me in and ordered me to abandon my plan. It wasn’t a request.
Naturally, I was confused: I thought it was a really cool idea!
He insisted he was looking out for me. He said there was bad blood between the billionaire and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame that I didn’t know about, and I needed to stay in my lane and stop being so creative. He told me he was trying to protect me.
What could I do? I called off the plan.
Life goes on. A few years go by. Eventually, the billionaire and the ex-Vegas executive had a falling out. (Which later led to lawsuits.) Long story short: I was moved to my ex-boss’s old office, which was right across the hall from the billionaire.
Which meant that we saw each other practically every day. So I was going in and out of the billionaire’s office suite more than ever.
One day, I noticed something on the billionaire’s wall that I hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t new, but my eyesight isn’t the best, and he had lots of different photos, awards, tchotchkes, and plaques everywhere. For whatever reason, it had never caught my eye.
It was a special recognition from the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.
My old boss had stolen my idea.
