SI
SI
discoversearch

We've detected that you're using an ad content blocking browser plug-in or feature. Ads provide a critical source of revenue to the continued operation of Silicon Investor.  We ask that you disable ad blocking while on Silicon Investor in the best interests of our community.  If you are not using an ad blocker but are still receiving this message, make sure your browser's tracking protection is set to the 'standard' level.
Non-Tech : Auric Goldfinger's Short List -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?


To: SiouxPal who wrote (11068)2/9/2003 12:51:28 PM
From: StockDung  Respond to of 19428
 
SEC says trader took investors' money, lived large

enquirer.com

Millions blown on personal fun, Feds discovered

By James McNair
The Cincinnati Enquirer

The story of Patrick Kisor is not the usual rags-to-riches tale.

Until 1998, Kisor, 40, earned a living by installing home theater systems and, on occasion, selling his services as a disc jockey. To people who worked with him, he was known as a technology nut and a whiz with numbers. They remember the father of five as a clean-living, church-going family man destined for something beyond wiring electronics components together.

Las Vegas trip: Patrick Kisor meets a member of the Blue Man Group. Kisor gambled millions in Vegas.
Photo submitted


"He's a smart guy - geeky smart," said Mark Lane, an employee of the Blue Ash-based home theater company M. Alan Associates and a longtime acquaintance of Kisor. "I always waited for him to be on late-night TV infomercials selling his book."

Instead, come 1998, Kisor had something else to sell: a new strategy for making money in the high-stakes arena of trading stock options. He formed a company called PDK International and raised nearly $4 million from well-to-do investors, including former baseball player Paul O'Neill, several Tristate doctors and Ingrid Wang, the ex-wife of Computer Associates founder Charles Wang. Linking up later with a money manager in Detroit, he pushed the intake up to $35 million.

Kisor claimed to have Midas-like abilities. "We can make the statement that the strategy has at least doubled the performance of the S&P 500 (stock index) annually for the last five years," crowed one brochure that he gave to potential investors. "We have done all this with a risk ratio far less than that of the S&P 500 itself."

Investors know better now. Last fall, the Securities and Exchange Commission said PDK and a successor company, Agave Ltd., were one big con. Kisor, without admitting or denying wrongdoing, agreed to close shop. Now the government is trying to figure out how much, if any, of the $35 million is left. Agents for the FBI and IRS are conducting an ongoing investigation.

Reached at his home in Sycamore Township, Kisor declined to offer his side of the story. "I'd really like to, but, obviously, I'm represented by counsel and he told me not to talk to anybody."

The SEC, in its thick lawsuit filed in Detroit last fall, said during PDK-Agave's four-year run, the money went out as fast as it came in.

The commission says that of the $35 million raised by Kisor and a money manager in Detroit, Keith Mohn, more than $12 million went out as "alternative investments, unclassified disbursements and unknown disbursements." Another $12 million-plus went toward the creation of an options trading company that bought a seat on the Chicago Board Options Exchange, the principal market for buying and selling options contracts.

But the SEC also said Kisor paid out more than $2 million to himself and family members and blew $2 million more on "gambling at the Bellagio" Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas. About $750,000 went toward a fleet of exotic vehicles. Denny Drabek, who said he did marketing for Kisor until quitting in late 2001, said the fleet included a Rolls-Royce, a Jaguar, a Lamborghini, a Hummer, a 1950s Chevrolet Bel-Air, four Dodge Vipers, a Plymouth Prowler, a Chrysler PT Cruiser and two rare Vector sports cars.

All the while, Kisor told investors that their accounts were growing in value.

Yet according to the SEC, only $300,000 of the $3.7 million raised by PDK was invested in options contracts - and it was lost in trading. The rest was spent on cars, travel, house payments, furniture, credit cards and payments to Kisor and family members. Kisor admitted to using PDK as a personal piggy bank, according to an SEC affidavit filed with the federal courts.

It was PDK that snookered O'Neill, Wang and local doctors. O'Neill is out $10,000, Mrs. Wang $300,000. Errol Stern, an orthopedic surgeon from Amberley Village, sank $500,000 into PDK. Steve Brinn, a Sharonville pediatrician, is claiming $305,000. The doctors filed civil suits in Hamilton County, accusing Kisor of fraud. Those cases are awaiting trial. None of the four would comment for this article.

The recruiting begins

Kisor kept a low profile in the Tristate while he was involved with PDK. He didn't operate a boiler room or run ads in the mass media. Instead he recruited customers of his home theater systems, members of his church and people he met through others, mainly people of wealth who were familiar with options trading.

By the time Kisor met Drabek in early 1999, his claims tended toward hyperbole. Drabek, a career sales executive, said Kisor hired him after two hours of shooting pool in Kisor's basement. He said Kisor spoke of amassing a fortune to establish and run homeless centers someday.

"He'd say, `How much money do you want to make in a year?' " Drabek said at his home in the River's Bend golf community in Maineville. "I said $20 million. He said, `You're going to make that, but not in your first year.' He said, `Denny, last year I made 400 percent trading options.' He said he was worth $35 million to $40 million."

Angry because he claims to be owed several million dollars in compensation, Drabek said Kisor behaved more like a lottery winner than a successful investment counselor. He said Kisor wore $2,000 suits and hand-painted ties, but carried a big Harley-Davidson wallet dangling by a chain from his belt.

He threw money away, Drabek said. "I remember we went to Steak n Shake and he left the waitress a $100 tip. She said, `What's this?' At the Don Pablo's out on Montgomery Road, they'd see him pull into the parking lot and they used to fight to wait his table. He gave out $100 bills like candy."

Drabek said Kisor's extravagance was in full bloom during his trips to the Bellagio in Las Vegas. There he stayed in a $15,000-a-night villa with a private swimming pool, a full kitchen with Viking appliances and a butler who was just a beep away. The hotel comps the room to high rollers, as it did for Kisor.

The SEC says Kisor admits to having squandered $2.1 million of Agave investors' money on the Bellagio gaming tables. Yet those close to Kisor say he had cultivated an image as a clean-living man.

"I'm not saying (the SEC allegations) aren't true, but after 15 years, I know as a fact he's a square," said Lane, Kisor's longtime acquaintance. "He's milk and cookies. He doesn't drink, doesn't smoke and is offended when people cuss."

Dave Sawyer, who said he "did everything from paying bills to washing cars to mowing grass" for Kisor, agreed that his former boss gave the impression of being up-and-up.

"The man was a really nice man," Sawyer said. "He seemed like he would do anything in the world for anybody. He was a friend of mine until I found out a bunch of things about him. He promised the world, but things didn't happen. I lost a job out of it."

Sawyer accompanied Kisor on his Las Vegas trips, but didn't want to talk about them. He said he hasn't talked to Kisor in six months.

Strategy goes astray

More than 100 people invested in PDK or Agave, mostly through Mohn's money management firm in Detroit, about half from out of the country. As new investors came on board, the SEC says, Kisor strayed farther and farther from the investment strategy he touted.

For example, in late 2000, Mohn learned that Kisor had sunk $2 million of the Agave proceeds into the stock of a privately held company called Znetix. In spite of Mohn's warning to stick to the options strategy, he said Kisor continued to invest in risky companies and real estate. Mohn told the SEC that, while Kisor valued Agave's stock investments at $10.25 million and its real estate at $5.7 million, Mohn decided they were overvalued or worthless.

The SEC named Mohn in its civil lawsuit last November because it said he left investors in the dark and kept the scheme going through a new company called Genesis Trading Associates. Mohn declined to be interviewed, but according to the transcript of an interview by the SEC, he said, "I don't think I have done anything wrong right now," and "I guarantee you that there is possibly some steps I took that were not textbook."

Drabek, who is not named in the SEC case, said he - like others - believed in the operation's legitimacy. He said he questioned Kisor's handling of investors' money, only to be brushed off. He said Kisor's trading strategy could have worked had Kisor invested the money as he said he would.

"It appears, after the fact, that he'd been robbing Peter to pay Paul," Drabek said.

Drabek said he believes that most, if not all of the $31 million placed with Agave is recoverable. About $10 million is tied up in an options brokerage called PCM, which was funded by Agave. He also is convinced that some of Agave's investments will be home runs.

Amy Cotter, an SEC lawyer in Chicago, said the agency is awaiting an audit of PDK and Agave. At some point, she said, the SEC will ask the judge in Detroit to order Kisor and Mohn to repay their investors. She said the SEC, which does not have the authority to press criminal charges, would ask that they be fined as well.

Glenn Whitaker, a Cincinnati lawyer who represents Kisor, would not discuss his client's case in detail.

"There's a continuing investigation going on, and all I can say is he's cooperating with the investigation," Whitaker said.

E-mail jmcnair@enquirer.com

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------



To: SiouxPal who wrote (11068)2/10/2003 8:51:55 PM
From: StockDung  Respond to of 19428
 
Dell Computer's 'Steven' is arrested on drug charges

ASSOCIATED PRESS
12:52 a.m., February 10, 2003

NEW YORK – Dude! The actor who gained fame and a cult following as the slacker "Steven" in commercials for Dell computers was arrested buying a small bag of marijuana, police said.

Benjamin Curtis, a 22-year-old New York University drama student, awaited arraignment Monday on a misdemeanor drug possession charge.

Police said he was arrested Sunday night on the Lower East Side after officers on a drug detail spotted him buying a small bag of marijuana from Omar Mendez, 19. Mendez faces drug sale and possession charges.

Curtis' agent, Bonnie Shumofsky, had no immediate comment on the arrest.

Curtis' portrayal of a surfer type who proclaims, "Dude, yer gettin' a Dell!" drove up computer sales and spawned T-shirts, caps, and backpacks, along with Web sites and online fan clubs.



To: SiouxPal who wrote (11068)2/11/2003 2:38:05 PM
From: StockDung  Respond to of 19428
 
Doubtfully useful tip of the day

_ _ _ (_)doubtfully
I_ _| _ _useful
| | | | | _ | | | | | |_) )
|_| |_| | __/
of the | |
day |_|

Can't remember if an egg is fresh or hard boiled? Just spin the egg. If
it wobbles, it's raw. If it spins easily, it's hard boiled.



To: SiouxPal who wrote (11068)2/14/2003 12:04:10 PM
From: StockDung  Respond to of 19428
 
Fresh Del Monte CEO, Analyst Clash

By RICHARD GIBSON
.c The Associated Press

DES MOINES, Iowa (AP) - They answered her question about pineapples, but when securities analyst Heather Jones followed up with one about banana prices, management of Fresh Del Monte Produce Inc. had had enough.

``Let me tell you, Heather, one thing please,'' began Chairman and Chief Executive Mohammad Abu-Ghazaleh. ``You are covering us without our will, and we would not like you to ask questions on this conference call.''

``Well, you know what - `` BB&T Capital Markets' Jones began, but Abu-Ghazaleh interrupted her.

``We don't want you to ask questions. You can make your own conclusions. You can cover us the way you want, but you have not been covering us in any objective way and we thank you for being on this call.''

Before Jones could say anything more her line went dead.

The rare public flare-up between the CEO of a New York Stock Exchange company and an analyst following it occurred Tuesday during Fresh Del Monte's recapitulation of what had been a stellar fourth quarter. Profits had soared well above Wall Street's forecasts, including Jones'.

But Abu-Ghazaleh was anything but ebullient when he heard her on the call. The BB&T analyst had been nothing but trouble for the Coral Gables, Fla., company for months.

Last Nov. 21 Jones downgraded the stock to ``underweight'' from ``buy'' - ``due to concerns related to pending litigation against the company.'' Jones told clients in a note that she had obtained a writ of summons related to allegations of securities fraud and other alleged misdeeds relating to the 1996 sale of Fresh Del Monte to IAT Group.'' A closely held fruit and vegetable producer, IAT Group Inc. is controlled by the Abu-Ghazaleh family.

Shares of Fresh Del Monte tumbled more than 20 percent before trading was halted that day.

Then, on Dec. 19, Jones reported that minority shareholders of Fresh Del Monte's former owner had sued the company and IAT Group over the sale. Fresh Del Monte shares plunged again, but later that day recovered after the company said the allegations were ``utterly without merit.''

Jones' next report on the company came Dec. 30, saying that Marvin P. Bush, a brother of President George W. Bush, had resigned from Fresh Del Monte's board, as had another director. The analyst noted that the company hadn't announced the departures, which she termed ``curious, especially given the fact that their terms were not due to expire for some time.''

On Jan. 16, noting that Fresh Del Monte ``has experienced a significant downward revaluation since our downgrade in November,'' Jones issued a bearish analysis on the company. ``We believe the company is at or near peak earnings,'' she concluded.

That may have been the last straw for CEO Abu-Ghazaleh. ``We have been observing her coverage for the last several months and the way she has been really creating a momentum for putting pressure on the stock in particular, and not covering us in a very fair manner,'' he told Dow Jones Newswires when asked about his comments on this week's conference call.

As for Jones' reaction to Abu-Ghazaleh's treatment of her on the call, she said ``first I was enraged. Then I was happy. It confirms our caution on the company. I think they got so testy because (my analysis is) hitting close to home. ... They didn't have a problem with my objectivity when I was a 'strong buy.'''

While there is no rule that requires management to respond to every question put to it, the episode turned heads on Wall Street.

Despite recent reforms, corporate access for analysts remains an issue, said Beth Young, director of special projects at The Corporate Library, a corporate governance research firm.

``There's still plenty of room for companies to ostracize analysts whose coverage they disagree with,'' she said. They may not invite those analysts to corporate events, and refuse to attend investor forums held by the person's employer.


02/14/03 11:18 EST



To: SiouxPal who wrote (11068)2/15/2003 9:55:10 AM
From: StockDung  Respond to of 19428
 
Dolly the Cloned Sheep Put to Death

Dolly, the world's first mammal cloned from an adult, is shown at the Roslin Institute in Edinburgh, Scotland, in December, 1997. Dolly has died after being diagnosed with progressive lung disease, the Roslin Institute said Friday, Feb. 14, 2003. (AP Photo/John Chadwick)


February 15, 2003 06:23 AM EST


LONDON - Dolly the cloned sheep was put to death Friday, after premature aging and disease marred her short existence and raised questions about the practicality of copying life.

The decision to end Dolly's life at age 6 - about half the life expectancy of her breed - was made because a veterinarian confirmed she had a progressive lung disease, according to the Roslin Institute, the Scottish lab where she was created and lived.

"We must await the results of the post-mortem on Dolly in order to assess whether her relatively premature death was in any way connected with the fact that she was a clone," said Richard Gardner, a professor of zoology at Oxford University and chair of the Royal Society working group on stem cell research and therapeutic cloning.

"If there is a link, it will provide further evidence of the dangers inherent in reproductive cloning and the irresponsibility of anybody who is trying to extend such work to humans."

Ian Wilmut, the leader of the team that created Dolly, said it was unlikely her illness was attributable to being a clone.

"The most likely thing is an infection which causes a slow progressive illness and for which there isn't an effective treatment," he said. "Sadly, we have had that in some of the sheep on the farm, so that's the most likely explanation, but we don't know."

The institute's Dr. Harry Griffin said Dolly had suffered from a virus-induced lung cancer that was also diagnosed in the past few months in other sheep housed with Dolly.

"The most likely thing is she caught it from that sheep and it's an unfortunate result of having to be housed in order to give her security and so that we could observe her," Wilmut said.

"Clearly, the whole group are very upset and sad."

Griffin said that Dolly had been coughing for about a week before the vet came Friday afternoon and conducted a CT scan.

She was born July 5, 1996, in a research compound of the Scottish institute, and the achievement of her creation - announced Feb. 23, 1997 - created an international sensation.

Researchers had previously cloned sheep from fetal and embryonic cells, but until Dolly, it was unknown whether an adult cell could reprogram itself to develop into a new being.

The Dolly breakthrough heightened speculation that human cloning inevitably would become possible.

But one of the biggest fears was that Dolly might have been born prematurely old.

It was feared that using adult genetic material to make a clone might produce an animal whose cells were already aged. On the other hand, scientists hoped the genetic clock might be "wound back" to its starting point.

Dolly, a Finn Dorset sheep named after the singer Dolly Parton, bred normally on two occasions with a Welsh mountain ram called David, first giving birth to Bonnie in April 1998 and then to three more lambs in 1999.

The births were good news, showing that clones can reproduce.

But in 1999, scientists noticed that the cells in Dolly's body - cloned from the breast cell of a 6-year-old adult ewe - had started to show signs of wear more typical of an older animal.

Then in January 2002, her creators announced she had developed arthritis at the relatively early age of 5 1/2 years, stirring debate over whether cloning procedures might be flawed.

Some geneticists said the finding showed that researchers could not manufacture copies of animals without the original genetic blueprint eventually wearing out.

There are now hundreds of animal clones around the world, including cows, pigs, mice and goats, many of them appearing robust and healthy.

But many attempts to clone animals have ended in failure. Deformed fetuses have died in the womb with oversized organs, while others were born dead. Others died days after being born, some twice as large as they should have been.

"It's important to remember just what she did contribute," Wilmut said. "She made biologists think totally differently about the way cells develop for all of the different tissues. The experiments that led to her birth are one of the things that are making people think very differently about how to produce cells to treat Parkinson's disease and other unpleasant diseases."

Dolly's body has been promised to the National Museum of Scotland and will eventually be put on display in Edinburgh, the Roslin Institute said.

---

On the Net:

Roslin Institute, roslin.ac.uk