Alan Wilzig was not happy about his portrayal in “The Wolf of Wall Street.” The man who introduced Jordan Belfort to his second wife while he was still married to his first was insulted by the sniveling, non-Testarossa-driving punk purporting to be him, and was not shy about telling Martin Scorsese about it. You might think he’s equally unhappy today, having just sold his Tribeca home for $12.65 million, a far cry from the $44 million he sought for it five years ago. But not at all. Sure, he was taking a page from his old buddy and seeing if he could find a sucker, but really he’s just glad to be rid of the thing so he can spend more time on his personal Grand Prix racing track upstate, even if he had to tone things down to get that.

Mr. Wilzig admitted that the price cut had less to do with the downturn in the high-end real estate market in New York than with his “pie in the sky” pricing strategy when he listed the property in 2014. He said at the time he hadn’t wanted to sell but had been motivated by some of the aggressive price-tags he’d seen in the area. He wanted to “see if some Chinese billionaire wanted to live in Tribeca bad enough,” he said….

The townhouse-style home has four bedrooms, a 32-foot-wide great room with an onyx fireplace, an 800-square-foot patio, a media room, a spa and its own private extra-wide garage. When it was first listed, the home drew attention for features such as alligator handrails and a 550-gallon aquarium filled with white butterfly koi, but Mr. Wilzig said he had later toned down the decor to appeal to a wider pool of buyers….

Mr. Wilzig said he is looking for a rental in the city in the $20,000 to $25,000 a month range and is relieved to have parted with the townhouse, since it gives him more financial freedom.

‘Wolf of Wall Street’ Townhouse Sells for $12.65 Million [WSJ]


Jordan Belfort: Global Inspiration

Najib Razak knows what we're talking about.

Hedge Fund Manager Who Faked His Own Death Has A Few Theories About Other Famous Murders, Real And Imaginary

Remember Samuel Israel III? For those with short memories, SI3 is a former hedge fund manager who faked his own death in June 2008 with the help of his girlfriend, Debra Ryan, who later wrote an article explaining her actions by noting that she and Israel had "a blazing sex life" that was hard to walk away from (Ryan shared colorful anecdotes that included all the times Israel would "[jokingly] sneak up on her, once while wearing sunglasses on his penis"). For Israel's part, he had pretended to kill himself, incorporating a line from M*A*S*H into his fake suicide note, in an attempt to avoid the prison stay that was coming his way, on account of having taken Bayou Group investors for more than $450 million. At the time, he became something of a minor celebrity, whose business card, prominently featuring an egret, was auctioned off on eBay but since ultimately being sentenced to twenty years behind bars we'd heard nary a peep from the guy. Luckily, Andrew Ross Sorkin recently flew down to Butner, North Carolina for a little chat and it's a good thing he did because Israel had a lot he wanted to get off his chest. After offering ARS an "orange Life Saver," discussing his own version of a playoffs beard ("Mr. Israel...was wearing a tan prison uniform with his hair grown out, a mass of silver and brown curls sprouting from the sides of his bald head. 'I’m never going to cut it until I get out,' he exclaimed"), and talking Ponzi schemes, SI3 got down to the real matter at hand. About halfway through, the interview turned bizarre when Mr. Israel, on the verge of crying, announced: “I took a man’s life. I shot him twice.” I asked for more details. The story is recounted in “Octopus,” but the author, Mr. Lawson, doesn’t appear to believe it. In the supposed slaying, Mr. Israel describes himself defending a known con man, Robert Booth Nichols, who claimed to have once worked for the Central Intelligence Agency and has since died. Mr. Nichols was undertaking a secret trade at a German bank and was ambushed outside by a cockeyed “Middle Eastern guy.” Mr. Israel says he shot the ambusher in the hip and then in the head. He looked at me, shaking, and said, “I’ve seen someone with their head blown off maybe two feet back — as close as I am to you.” Mr. Israel recognized my skepticism. When I asked him what happened to the body, he said, “Bob made a couple of calls.” Again, I looked at him quizzically. “These people can do anything. They can get rid of a body,” he said. “Come on,” he added, looking at me as if I didn’t understand. “They can kill presidents.” I wasn’t sure what he was talking about. “The J.F.K. thing,” he said. He went on to tell me that he had videotapes of Kennedy’s assassination and that one was stolen by the F.B.I. “I know it makes me look like a crackpot,” he said. “But I know it’s real. Look into my eyes — I don’t care if people think I’m crazy.” Egrets. A Con Man Who Lives Between Truth And Fiction [Dealbook]