Have you noticed how many of the rich and powerful elite of the world are getting mowed down by the Epstein Files? This story is the gift the keeps on giving in almost every direction and in almost every language except one. Teflon Trump continues to evade accountability for what is certainly now proven to be the deepest and most enduring close relationship with the pedophile that exists. The prolific mentions of Trump in those files (both written and visual) continue to get backhanded by him and his PR staff. It brings new credence to the old adage in sexual escapade evasion that you need to deny, deny, deny. I recall an old close friend of mine who, while nowhere near being a pedophile, does have a rather advanced libido and the sexual morality to go with it, explaining how it works. He told me years ago that if you were ever caught in flagrante delicto, it was important to deny everything from start to finish. He explained the theory by citing a personal example when at a youthful party at his home, long after his wife and his good friend fell asleep, he diddled his friend’s wife on the sofa directly next to where his drives was sleeping. When caught in the act by his wife and his awakening friend, he denied everything from start to finish and stayed that course until the issue dissolved in a frustrating flurry of uncertainty. He claimed that people want to believe the best with regard to people close to them and that the repeated denials help them to get to their own doubt and can, indeed, make the accusations go away. It is a deceitful tactic to be sure, but its hard to deny its effectiveness, especially in light of the success that people like Trump have had with the approach. Denial is such a big part of the Trump playbook that its no wonder he is denying anything and everything about his relationship with Epstein, regardless of the hard evidence to the contrary. The only thing different about the Epstein issue versus the other lies and denials he has perpetrated is the vehemence of his base to things having to do with pedophilia. That seems to have stalled his normal absolution cycle and caused the accusations to linger in the air over his head like a sword of Damocles.
My own experience with work-related sexual dalliances (let’s face it, most of those connected with Epstein were connecting for business networking prior to any shenanigans) goes back to my earliest days in banking in Midtown New York City. Over my Third Avenue in the 50s, Citibank, in its prime, had built its slant-topped tower in the midst of a red-light hornets nest. After it was completed, there remained the most successful of those clubs catering to the seamier side of the local banking community. It was not uncommon to hear people refer to going over into that district with or without clients for a “drink”. Recall that those were still the days of the occasional three-martini lunches and the scotch mist cocktail hours. Many of our bank’s senior officers were at very least borderline alcoholics who while functional for the most part by day, were easily lured into grittier depths during the afternoon and evening. These strip joints were the perfect place to hang out for them because besides being some added fun, they were less likely and clubby hangouts for their bosses. I can recall being in those places once or twice with my banking colleagues and being shocked to see at least one Vice Chairman of the bank in attendance acting in a manner very much unlike his normal avuncular and proper self. It reminded me early in life that things were not often what they seemed.
In 1979, a group of us relative high-flyers had been assigned to a new unit called The World Corporate Department to handle multinational corporate clients. We were the best of the best and had been hand-picked for the duty. One of the first training acts by management was to send us as a group to visit the offices of our foreign branches in Europe. Several groups were sent for this Grand Tour. In my group there were a dozen of us and only three had ever been to Europe with me alone being well-traveled on the Continent given my high school days spent in Rome. After a very prim and proper visit to our London office, the next stop was Paris and everyone had outsized expectations of what Paris had to offer for nightlife. After a day learning about letters of credit and forfeit trade financing in the Paris office, located appropriately on the Champs Ellysees, the group was anxious to see the city lights and go to the games Crazy Horse Saloon, which was famous for its Can-Can dancing. We got there too late for the most interesting shows and everyone felt very deprived to the point that a local cab driver was enlisted to find us a more happening joint. We ended up at some Parisian strip joint that made the places on Third Avenue look classy. Sixteen hundred dollars and a few glasses of cheap champagne later we got tossed out with no more than a few tickles. It was not until several stops later on the Tour in Frankfurt that those interested in the grittiest European sex world found the Kaiserstrasse and its plentiful sexworker approach to commerce.
Other than those early exploits and one trip to Rio years later that got out of hand (I, as the Department Head of Latin America at the time, declined to participate in the worst of the evening’s suruba activities), I can honestly say that if sex and business were going on, I knew little or nothing about it. It was less that I put my head in the sand (something I will admit to having done in Rio that time), but more that I just think it was a minor and peripheral activity and not mainstream to the business.
This morning I have read about another revelation in the Epstein case. It so happens that I was asked yesterday at a neighborhood pizza gathering if my business circles had ever intersected with Epstein’s. It’s something I saw wondered about several times. There was the time I saw him and Trump in the disco at Mar-a-Lago while I was running Private Banking. And I did work at Bear Stearns for four years and while lots of those folks knew and had relationships with Epstein, it was all mostly before my time. But today the Wall Street Journal is reporting on Epstein’s affiliation with the Core CLub in Manhattan. The Journal describes the Core Club as a place for the elite and ultra-successful of Manhattan’s business community. And yes, I have been to the Core Club on several occasions. The guy who brought me to the Core Club and tried to recruit me into its membership (something I never entertained) was the only guy in my career that did a stint in the Federal Penitentiary (specifically the Brooklyn Federal Prison, where they are holding Maduro these days). These Core Club visits predated my visiting him in prison, but those connections all make some degree of sense with hindsight. There were several reasons I never joined the Core Club (not knowing if I would have even been accepted). There was the high cost to be sure, but also, I have a bad experience with elite clubs. I had been a member of the famed New York Athletic Club when I was 23. I recall being asked during the application process if I accepted the club’s “conventions”, which, of course, meant its anti-Semitic and anti-Black membership policies. I had said that I did and spent the next and only year of my membership regretting my cowardly obeisance. It struck me at the time that the Core Club membership probably would come with some similar regret…and that was without knowing anything about the Epstein connection at the time. So, I can still say that at least I have successfully avoided the Epstein Spiral once again and trust that I can remain outside that particularly nasty vortex.