My Life, Part II: Where I Grew Up

Growing up in Brooklyn as a young Jewish boy of Spanish descent was not the easiest task in the world. But this challenge made me into the man that I am today.

I came from a house where both my parents were concentration camp survivors. The rules were strict. Everything that went on in our daily life involved a reference to the war. Every move we made was viewed upon as a successful move, because my parents had lived through what they caled “the living death.”

I know there are people who can only dream of having dinner with the entire family every night, or a house where every relative is homefor the holidays. But I ran from it. When it is your life -- and I mean your everyday life -- it drives you nuts! But, in the end, it makes you thrive for constant love and family.

My father(whose name went from Yishayau, to Salo, to Shalom, to finally Sam) has his own story that helped me realize I can do whatever I want in life. He escaped a concentration camp, was captured by the English, escaped from their wonderful work camp, sailed on the first ship to Israel (known at the time as Palestine), joined Began’s first Israel Liberation front at 14 years old, and later became a soldier – a hero – for the special forces of Israel. He came to this country on the first merchant marine ship of Israel to get away from death and constant war.

There, he met the lady I worship, my mother.I would say I got many talents from my mother. Her intelligence and quick-wittedness taught me how to deal with just about any person and any situation. In short, upon escaping from Nazi France, my mother watched my Grandfather "Eleazar" be taken away to Auschwitz and fled to Italy, where she became an internationally-renowed opera singer. My family originated in Spain and migrated to what they thought would be safer parts of the world. My uncle and cousins in Italy gave me the know-how to enter the banking industry. My uncle Rafello became the President for the Bank of Milan later to be bought out by Bank Leumi and my cousins are bankers in Zurich and Turkey.Money, courage, banking, and the urge to always strive for success was in my blood. The problem was, so was someone who did not have the patients my heritage possessed.

I am the youngest. As my family called it, I was the "baby," since the last baby grew up way too fast.

We grew up in Brighton Beach Brooklyn, which was known and still is know as "Little Odessa, with “Odessa” referring to Russia. Brighton Beach was the destination for many years for Russian immigrants who wanted to build a life. The streets were always active with people selling everything from pork sausages to clothing, liquor to fish from the bay. The after-hours in Brighton Beach were filled with Russian Mafia pulling up to the backroom casinos and prostitution that lurked in the darkness.

During the day every store down Brighton Beach Avenue was meaningful. One was the butcher, there was the fish market, the Korean fruit stores, the drug store, the "real" Italian pizzeria, and of course the designer boutiques -- “designer” meaning $400 jeans. There would be lines outside the designer stores with the Russian immigrants buying up the stores. These same Russian immigrants would pull up in $150,000 Mercedes Benz wearing mink coats. The problem was, when they went to the local grocery, they would pay in food stamps and the government paid for their housing.

Growing up around this, I began to see what money really was. I began to see how people manipulated the system to use money to their benefit, and actually get away with it. I was astonished. This led me to literally watch people as they went into the banks and withdraw wads of cash and of course, pay at the supermarket in our government aid. Unreal.

I was on a mission to understand the economics of it all.