From Pool Halls to Cybersecurity: A Business Owner’s Journey
The Journey of a Pool Hustler to Cyber Security!
A Biography About Daniel Stuart
A Boy and His Dreams (Age 12).
It was the year 1973.
The day I first stepped into Baldwin Billiards was like walking into another world. The sharp scent of wood polish and the faint whiff of cigarette smoke filled the air, mixing with the distinctive smell of old, weathered pool tables. Chalk dust seemed to hover in the air, illuminated by the dim overhead lights, as if each tiny particle told a story of its own.
The constant clicking of pool balls was the heartbeat of this place, a rhythm that would eventually pulse through my veins as naturally as the blood flowing through them. I was just twelve, but even then, I knew that this wasn’t just a building—it was the epicenter of something much bigger. I didn’t quite know what yet, but I felt it, deep in my bones.
Back then, my role was simple. I was the coffee boy, a small, seemingly insignificant cog in a well-oiled machine. Surrounded by men who had spent decades perfecting their craft, I was nothing but an observer, The men would place their order for coffee with me and I would go to Paul’s deli on Merrick Road in Baldwin to buy the coffees and distribute them to the men, some men liked their coffee light and sweet while other men liked it black with sugar. At that time, the regulars barely acknowledged my existence. But even in my quiet, unnoticed state, I watched, and I listened. These men played a game called “money ball” for 1 dollar per way. The money balls were 1, 5, 8, 10, and 15, and the points were worth three ways. They didn’t speak much while they played, but their concentration, their precision, spoke volumes.
Watching these old-timers line up their shots, there was a quiet, calculated beauty in every move they made. Every sound, every motion, every decision mattered. The way they leaned over the table, squinting down the cue, the subtle twist of their wrists, and the sharp clack as the cue ball struck its target—it was like watching art in motion. I’d watch them for hours, soaking in every detail, dreaming that one day I’d be as good as them. That I’d be the one they’d watch with respect, maybe even awe.
But before I could pick up a cue, I had to earn my time on the tables. My first official job at Baldwin Billiards was to vacuum the tables. In exchange for an hour of cleaning, I was rewarded with an hour of free pool time. It was a deal that suited me just fine. I practically lived at the pool hall, arriving early and staying late into the night. The place became my second home, and it wasn’t long before I gained a lot of friends there.
My duties quickly expanded beyond vacuuming, and I was fixing the tips on pool cues. At first, it was just something I watched Rick Elder, the house man, do. But over time, I got the hang of it. I got good at it, too, which made me indispensable to the regulars. They trusted me with their prized cues, knowing that I could bring them back to life with a little precision and patience. That’s when I started feeling like I was becoming part of the fabric of the hall, not just a kid hanging around.
The regulars began to take notice of me, not just for my cue-repair skills, but for my growing talent on the tables. Frankie Sclafani, Ronnie Terllie, Wolfgang, Ray Garrett, Fat Al, Whipple Stick, Harry, Peter Oliver and Andy Sapon—these men were my first mentors, even if they didn’t realize it. Each of them had their own style, their own way of playing the game and living their lives, and each of them taught me something valuable. Whether it was the importance of patience from Wolfgang or how to keep a cool head like Ray Garrett, I absorbed it all.
Then there was Rick Elder. He was the house man when I first started, and he ran the day-to-day operations of the hall. He was my hero; I would go and give him lunch every day at Paul’s deli. He would eat a roast beef sandwich on white bread with mayo and tomatoes. He was a great pool player also, but when Rick quit, Ralph, the owner of Baldwin Billiards, offered me the chance to take over the cash register and manage the hall’s daily business. I was only 14 or so, but Ralph saw something in me. He trusted me, and that trust meant the world to me.
Taking over the cash register wasn’t just about making change for the customers or keeping the books. It was about responsibility, about stepping up and being part of the backbone of the place. It meant that I was becoming more than just the coffee boy or the kid who vacuumed tables. I was becoming a fixture at Baldwin Billiards. And with that, I gained the respect of the regulars—not just as the guy who fixed their cues or ran the register, but as a player.
The more time I spent at Baldwin Billiards, the better I got at playing pool. I practiced for hours every day, and soon, I wasn’t just holding my own—I was beating some of the regulars, even the ones who had been playing for decades. I became so skilled that I used to spot people 45 balls in a 50-point game of straight pool, for 5 dollars per game. That’s the kind of handicap I’d give them, and I’d still win. Word spread about my abilities, and soon enough, I had a reputation. I was able to run 30 to 50 balls in a row!
Kids from Baldwin High School would bet that I’d be on table seven, shooting pool as they walked home after school looking through the window. I became something of a local legend, but despite my growing reputation, I never let it go to my head. I was always diplomatic, always focused on the game, and I never got into fights. Baldwin Billiards was my sanctuary, my escape from the struggles I faced at home and school. It was the one place where I felt like I belonged.
From Cleaning to Craftsmanship.
Vacuuming tables at Baldwin Billiards might sound like a menial task to most, but for me, it was a rite of passage. Each time I pushed the vacuum across those felt-covered tables, I knew that I was earning my way to something far more valuable—free time shooting pool on the pool tables. An hour of vacuuming meant an hour of free pool time, and that was a trade I’d gladly make any day of the week.
There was something almost sacred about those late nights in the pool room. Sometimes the hall would be quiet, with only the faint hum of the fluorescent lights overhead and the music from the 1970s playing on the radio and the steady tick-tock of the clock on the wall. I’d line up shot after shot, feeling the smooth glide of the cue in my hands, the sharp crack of the cue ball against the others, and the satisfying sound of a ball dropping into a pocket. It was in those quiet hours, alone with the table, that I truly honed my skills.
Before long, I wasn’t just cleaning the tables; I was fixing cues also. It started with watching Rick Elder, but soon, I was doing it myself. Fixing the tips on pool cues was an art, a delicate craft that demanded precision and patience. At first, I’d fumble with the glue and the clamps, but with practice, I got the hang of it. And once I did, the regulars started coming to me. They trusted me with their cues, and in return, they taught me more about the game, about life.
I’ll never forget the sense of pride I felt when one of the regulars would come up to me, cue in hand, asking for a repair. It wasn’t just about fixing a piece of wood—it was about being part of the community, being needed, being valued.
And then there were my friends—Frankie, Ronnie, Wolfgang, Ray, Fat Al, Whipple Stick, Harry, Peter, and Rick. Each one of them taught me something different. Frankie was always the jokester, but he had a way of making you think about the game in a new light. Ronnie was quiet but deadly on the table—he taught me the importance of focus. Wolfgang was 6 foot 5 inches tall, with his thick accent and gruff demeanor; they taught me patience. Ray, well, Ray was the cool head, the guy who never lost his temper, no matter how heated the game got.
Together, they were my first real community, my first tribe. These men, with their rough edges and sometimes questionable humor, became my mentors, whether they realized it or not. They showed me the ropes of not just the game but life itself.
A New Role: The Cash Register.
Taking over the cash register at Baldwin Billiards was a turning point in my life. It wasn’t just about handling money or managing the day-to-day operations of the hall—it was about stepping into a new role, one that carried weight and responsibility. Ralph trusted me, and that trust was something I didn’t take lightly.
Every day, I’d unlock the doors, flip the lights on and flip the sign from “Closed” to “Open,” and get ready for the regulars to come in. I knew who would be first through the door, who would play on which table, and which cues needed fixing. I kept track of the games, the money changing hands, and the banter that filled the air.
But it wasn’t all business. Taking on more responsibilities also gave me more time to practice. When the hall was quiet, I’d sneak in a few games, refining my skills, testing new techniques. I wasn’t just the kid cleaning up anymore—I was becoming a player in my own right, someone who could take on anyone at the table and hold my own.
Straight pool was my game, but I became one of the best in the game of 3-rail billiards as well, my high run in 3-rail billiards was 15, I was a force to be reckoned with in this game. My skills continued to sharpen, and with that came the respect of the regulars. I wasn’t just the guy who ran the place—I was becoming someone who could compete with the best. People started coming in, not just to play but to watch me play. They’d whisper to each other about the kid who could spot 45 balls in a 50-point game of straight pool and still win. I didn’t let it go to my head, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel good to have that kind of respect.
But with respect came expectations. I had to be on my game all the time, both literally and figuratively. Running the hall meant managing people, keeping the peace, and making sure everything ran smoothly. There were moments when tensions would run high, especially when money was on the line. But I learned how to navigate those situations with diplomacy, always keeping a level head.
Running the cash register also came with learning the business side of things. Ralph gave me more insight into how the pool hall operated—how to balance the books, manage costs, and deal with suppliers. This was my first real introduction to the mechanics of running a business, and I soaked up everything Ralph had to teach me. He wasn’t just running a pool hall; he was running a business, and he made sure I understood that there was more to it than just watching the games.For a teenager, managing the place was an education. I was learning how to be responsible, how to manage people who were twice or three times my age, and how to handle situations that required maturity beyond my years. But even with all this responsibility, I never lost sight of why I loved Baldwin Billiards in the first place. It was about the game. The art of pool had become a part of me, and I was determined tomaster it.
A Local Legend.
By the time I was 16, my reputation had solidified. I wasn’t just another kid hanging around Baldwin Billiards—I was a force to be reckoned with. The regulars respected me, not just for my skills on the table but for the way I handled myself. I wasn’t cocky, but I knew I had something special.
One of the things that set me apart was my ability to spot people an almost ridiculous number of balls and still win. In a 50-point game, I’d spot my opponents 45 balls. That kind of handicap was unheard of, but I pulled it off time and time again. It became my calling card, the thing that made people sit up and take notice.
Of course, not everyone was thrilled about my success. There were always whispers, rumors that I was too young to be that good, that maybe I was getting lucky. But anyone who played against me knew better. It wasn’t luck—it was hours and hours of practice, of learning from the best, of honing my craft. Peter Oliver used to take me by car to Queens, to the Golden Cue and set up games for me to hustle pool. No one believed a 14-year-old kid could be so good, but I was making money, playing against grown men who underestimated me at their own peril.
School, on the other hand, was a different story. As my time at the pool hall increased, my interest in school waned. The structure of school felt suffocating compared to the freedom I found at Baldwin Billiards. Sitting in a classroom, listening to teachers drone on about subjects I didn’t care about, felt like a waste of time. I knew where my future was—in the world of pool, not in a classroom.
Dropping out wasn’t an easy decision. There was a certain stigma attached to it, a sense of failure. But the pool hall became my refuge, my sanctuary. No one there cared about diplomas or grades. They cared about skill, about hard work, about character. And those were the things I had in spades.
Finding a Father Figure.
One of the most important relationships I formed during my time at Baldwin Billiards was with Ralph, the owner. Ralph wasn’t just a boss—he was a mentor, a father figure, someone who saw potential in me when others didn’t. He took me under his wing, not just teaching me about the game but about life.
Ralph’s influence on me was profound. He wasn’t the kind of man who would sit you down and give you a lecture—his lessons came through actions, through the way he ran the hall, the way he treated people and how people treated him. He taught me the value of hard work, of integrity, of standing up for myself. And when my relationship with my biological father fell apart, Ralph stepped in.
It wasn’t long before Ralph made it official—he adopted me as his own. My mother was perfectly fine with it, relieved even that I had found someone who could provide the guidance I needed. Ralph became the father I never had, and Baldwin Billiards became my home in more ways than one.
But the joy of being part of Ralph’s family was short-lived. When I was 17, Ralph passed away. It was a blow I wasn’t prepared for. Losing him was like losing the foundation of my world. I still remember going to his funeral, standing by his grave, feeling the weight of his absence. But Ralph had left me with something priceless—his lessons, his guidance, and the belief that I could make something of myself. His death was a turning point. I had to grow up quickly, and I had to figure out what came next.
Finding a Father Figure.Regressing to the Year 1969.
A time filled with chess games and fishing adventures. I vividly recall those days when I was just seven years old, challenging my father and Al Nevins to countless matches. Al, who was fifty years my senior, was a brilliant CPA with a knack for numbers, but he would often find himself at a loss when it came to chess. My unusual talent for the game drove him and my father to the brink of frustration. I can still picture them, shaking their heads in exasperation as they knocked over the chess pieces in their frustration.
We often played at the Oakwood Beach Club in Baldwin Harbor; a private Beach Club reserved for the lucky few livings south of Northern Boulevard. It was a vibrant place in the late ’60s, buzzing with activity. The adult men would gather for serious poker games while I swam laps and competed on the swimming team. I was a little dolphin in the pool, winning trophies that gleamed with a gold swimmer atop and a white marble base. My coach would beam with pride, and my mother cheered from the sidelines.
In addition to swim meets, we played water polo every weekend in the deep end of the pool. The diving board was a favorite gathering spot, where we’d take turns launching ourselves into the water, splashing and laughing. But the highlight was watching the grown men dive for oiled watermelons, a hilariously chaotic game organized by the club. I couldn’t tell if my father participated in those antics; his focus seemed to lie in the high-stakes poker games where tempers occasionally flared.
Winning was everything back then; trophies were reserved for champions. Oakwood Beach Club had a sandy shore and a large bay, complete with a wooden raft anchored in the water. I remember carefully climbing onto it, avoiding the sharp barnacles that clung to its edges close to the surface of the raft. We would sunbathe, dive off, and hang out, soaking up the sun and the carefree spirit of summer.
Fishing was another adventure. My brother and I would have drag nets catching hermit crabs and fish, our buckets overflowing with treasures from the water. Those were the best days—endless play at the beach club, filled with laughter and competition.
Chess remained a constant, though. I could never resist teasing Al, playing a move and then darting off to join my brother, leaving him to contemplate the board in silence. I would return to find him still pondering his next move, only for me to declare checkmate moments later. My father used to lose while he was playing chess with me. Perhaps that’s why he took to using belt buckles and anything else he could find to express his frustration against me. I was just a kid, but on those summer afternoons, I felt invincible amidst the laughter, the games, and the freedom of childhood.
The summers at Oakwood Beach Club were a blend of innocence and mischief. The air was thick with the scent of saltwater and sunscreen oil, a sensory reminder of childhood adventures. After my chess matches, I’d dash off to join my brother in our latest escapades. We’d race to the beach, the sand hot under our feet, we would leap into the cool embrace of the bay.
Drag netting for fish at the Oakwood Beach Club was almost every day. Armed with makeshift nets and buckets, we’d explore the shallows, turning over rocks and peering into crevices, always hopeful for a glimpse of some hidden treasure. I remember the thrill of dragging our nets through the water, watching as they filled with wriggling crabs and colorful fish. Each catch felt like a small victory, a tangible trophy from our summer explorations.
As the sun dipped low in the sky, painting everything in hues of orange and pink, the adults would gather for their evening poker games. I’d often sit on the periphery, listening to their banter and laughter, absorbing the serious yet jovial atmosphere. Their camaraderie felt inviting, even as they argued over hands and bluffed their way through the night. The stakes were high, and the tension in the air was palpable. It was a world where I was only an observer, I was too young to play cards. Longing to join in but knowing I was too young to fully grasp the intricacies of their games.
Evenings would often culminate in more chess matches, as I tried to squeeze in one last game with Al before the sun disappeared. I relished those moments, feeling both proud and guilty as I defeated him time and again. His brows would furrow, and I could see him grappling with the fact that a seven-year-old was beating him at a game he had mastered for decades. But there was always a twinkle in his eye, a hint of admiration mixed with his frustration.
And there was my father, often engrossed in his own world, yet always present. He would sometimes glance over, offering a nod of encouragement, or a light-hearted remark about my strategy. Those small gestures meant the world to me; they were his way of saying he believed in me, even if I didn’t fully comprehend the weight of those moments.
The Oakwood Beach Club wasn’t just a location; it was a tapestry of experiences woven from laughter, competition, and the simple joys of childhood. It was a place where friendships blossomed, and memories were etched in the grains of sand. As summer days melted into warm nights, I felt a sense of belonging—a connection to my family, to Al, and to a time that seemed suspended in perfect bliss.
Reflecting on those summers, I realize now how they shaped me. The lessons learned at the chessboard—patience, strategy, and the understanding that every move counts—followed me beyond those sun-soaked days. I was learning more than just how to play a game; I was discovering resilience and the thrill of competition, the importance of teamwork while fishing, and the value of enjoying each fleeting moment.
Those memories of chess, fish, and summer sun are etched in my heart, a reminder of the simplicity and magic of childhood. They pull me back to a time when the world felt vast and full of possibility, where every game and every catch held the promise of adventure. As I close my eyes and revisit those days, I can still hear the laughter of my brother, the sound of waves lapping against the shore, and the clatter of chess pieces on a wooden board, echoing like a sweet refrain from a long-lost summer.
Taking the Leap – GED back to 1979.
For a while, Baldwin Billiards felt like my second home. The clack of balls on the table, the laughter of friends, and the familiar faces created a comforting atmosphere. I loved the game and the camaraderie, the late nights spent perfecting my shots and sharing stories over drinks. It was a place where I felt I belonged, where I could escape the chaos of life. But as time passed, a nagging feeling crept in. I began to realize that, as much as I cherished the hall, I couldn’t see myself spending my entire life there. Ralph’s passing was a stark reminder of life’s fragility. Running the cash register and hustling games felt increasingly hollow without him around. I needed to move forward, to challenge myself beyond the comfort of the billiard tables. It was time to prove that I could carve out a different path.
That’s when I decided to take my GED. It was a pivotal moment—a chance to reclaim control over my future. I knew I hadn’t been the best student in high school; distractions and my love for the pool hall had taken precedence. But this time, I was determined to succeed. I threw myself into my studies, revisiting subjects I had once struggled with like math, reading, science. I set a rigorous schedule, often staying up late into the night, cramming and practicing sample questions.
When the day of the test arrived, nerves bubbled within me, but they were accompanied by a sense of resolve. I reminded myself that I had prepared as best as I could. With each question I tackled, I felt a mix of anxiety and excitement—this was my chance to change my narrative.
When I received the results, my heart raced. I had passed on the first try. The weight that had been pressing down on me for so long lifted instantly. I could hardly believe it. My mother’s pride was palpable; her smile radiated joy and relief. For the first time in years, I felt the stirrings of hope and possibility. It wasn’t just about passing the test; it was about taking a step toward a future I could be proud of.
Together, we began to explore the next chapter. College felt like a dream, but it was one I was ready to chase. After researching various programs, we settled on Johnson & Wales University in Rhode Island, renowned for its culinary arts program. Cooking had always been a passion of mine, a creative outlet that brought me joy. The idea of honing my skills in a structured environment thrilled me.
The transition wasn’t easy. Leaving Baldwin Billiards meant stepping away from a place that felt safe, but I knew it was necessary. As I packed my bags for Rhode Island, I felt a mix of excitement and trepidation. This was the beginning of a new journey, a chance to learn and grow in ways I had never imagined. Each step forward felt like a victory, and I was ready to embrace whatever lay ahead, armed with the knowledge that I could achieve more than I ever thought possible.
As I settled into life at Johnson & Wales University, a whirlwind of new experiences enveloped me. The campus buzzed with energy—students hustling to classes, the aroma of fresh ingredients wafting through the air from the kitchens, and the sounds of laughter echoing from the dining halls. For the first time, I was surrounded by people who shared my passion for food and cooking, and it ignited a fire within me.
The culinary program was intense. Each day brought new challenges, from mastering knife skills to experimenting with complex recipes. I found myself immersed in a world that demanded creativity and precision, where every dish was a canvas waiting to be painted with flavors. I felt invigorated as I learned from seasoned chefs who pushed me to refine my technique and broaden my palate. The hours were long, but the exhilaration of creating something delicious made every moment worth it.
The friendships I formed during those early days were as nourishing as the meals we prepared. My classmates became a support system—fellow dreamers and aspiring chefs who understood the late-night study sessions and the joy of a perfectly executed dish. We spent evenings cooking together, sharing recipes and tips, and finding solace in our shared ambitions. Those bonds became an integral part of my journey, reminding me that I was no longer alone in pursuing my dreams.
Yet, as I adapted to this new life, remnants of my past would occasionally surface. I missed the familiarity of Baldwin Billiards—the laid-back atmosphere, the camaraderie, the games. Sometimes, I found myself longing for the comfort of a place where I was known and where I had felt a sense of belonging. But I also recognized that this was a different kind of belonging, one rooted in shared aspirations and growth.
Balancing school with my responsibilities was a challenge. I worked part-time in a local restaurant, where I could apply what I was learning in class. It was a grueling but rewarding experience, juggling late-night shifts with early morning classes. There were days when I felt overwhelmed, questioning whether I could keep up with the pace. But each time I faced a difficult situation—a challenging service or a complex dish—I reminded myself of the journey that had brought me here. I was no longer just a kid hustling games; I was a student with dreams, determined to carve out a future in the culinary world.
As the semesters progressed, I found my footing. I began to thrive, discovering my culinary style and embracing the creativity that came with it. Each project, from menu planning to plating techniques, fueled my passion even further. I learned not just about cooking but about the artistry and culture behind food—how it could connect people, tell stories, and evoke memories.
Johnson & Wales Adventures.
Starting culinary school at Johnson & Wales University was an entirely new world for me. After years at Baldwin Billiards, where my life had been structured around the game of pool, stepping into the kitchen felt like both an exhilarating challenge and a refreshing change. The first day in culinary school was a sensory overload—much like my first day in the pool hall. The scent of fresh ingredients—garlic, onions, basil—swirled through the air, mixing with the heat of ovens and the metallic clink of knives on cutting boards. Just like pool, cooking was an art form. And just like pool, it was all about precision, discipline, and creativity.
In the kitchen, I had to learn everything from the ground up. At first, the fast-paced environment overwhelmed me. Cooking wasn’t just about following a recipe; it was about understanding ingredients, timing, and technique. The chefs at Johnson & Wales were tough, but that toughness sharpened me. Just like Ralph had pushed me to perfect my pool game, my instructors pushed me to reach my potential in the kitchen.
The camaraderie I found among my fellow culinary students was something I hadn’t felt since Baldwin Billiards. We were all learning, all striving for the same thing—excellence. Late nights in the kitchen, working on assignments or perfecting a dish, felt a lot like those late nights practicing pool in an empty pool room. There was the same drive, the same hunger for improvement. I began to see that the discipline I’d learned from playing pool was directly transferable to cooking. In both worlds, attention to detail was key, whether it was lining up a shot perfectly or balancing the flavors in a dish.
But as much as I was settling into culinary school, the mischievous streak in me hadn’t disappeared. My most infamous stunt during my time at Johnson & Wales came when I bought an old Pinto for $50. I didn’t think much of it at the time—I just wanted a cheap car to get around. But being the kind of person who couldn’t leave well enough alone, I decided to modify it.
I put shackles on the back and, during one of Rhode Island’s infamous snowstorms, chained the back tires. I drove that Pinto straight to the college football field, where I spent hours doing 360s in the snow, tearing up the field in the process. In that moment, it was pure adrenaline. I wasn’t thinking about the consequences—just the thrill of the moment, the feeling of being free in that snow-covered field. But, of course, the school didn’t take kindly to my little stunt. When they found out what I had done, they kicked me out.
It was a crushing blow. For a while, I felt like I was right back where I started—another dropout, another kid who couldn’t seem to stay out of trouble. But just like in pool, you don’t win every game. Sometimes, you lose, and the important thing is how you bounce back from that loss.
With the support of my family, especially my brother, I found the resolve to go back. I wasn’t going to let one mistake define my future. My brother was my rock during this time—he helped me stay focused, even when I felt like giving up. When it came time to write a 15-page term paper, he stepped in and did it for me, something I’ll always be grateful for. Without him, I’m not sure I would have made it through.
Returning to Johnson & Wales was a turning point. This time, I was more determined than ever to finish what I started. I worked harder, stayed out of trouble, and kept my eyes on the prize. And when I finally walked across the stage at graduation, wearing that cap and gown, it was one of the proudest moments of my life. I had done it. I was officially a chef.
Becoming a Chef.
Becoming a chef was more than just a career move for me—it was a new way of life. After spending years at Baldwin Billiards, where the stakes were high and the competition fierce, I found that the kitchen offered a similar sense of challenge and adrenaline. Every dish I prepared, every meal I served felt like a game of pool—every element had to be perfectly aligned, every step executed with precision. It was a new game, but one I was ready to play.
My first jobs as a chef weren’t easy. Working in a restaurant kitchen was tough, and I had to start at the bottom. Long hours, hot kitchens, and high-pressure environments tested my endurance. But I thrived in it. Just like on the pool table, I found that the more I practiced, the better I became. I started to get a reputation for being meticulous, for creating dishes with the same kind of attention to detail I’d given to lining up a perfect pool shot.
There’s a certain pride that comes with being able to call yourself a chef. It wasn’t just about earning a degree or landing a job—it was about mastering a craft. The kitchen became my new arena, and every dish I made reflected the journey that had brought me there.
But as much as I loved the work, there was a part of me that still longed for something else. The hustle and bustle of restaurant kitchens didn’t offer the same sense of community that Baldwin Billiards had. I missed the camaraderie, the late-night games, and the feeling of being part of something bigger. That’s when my life took yet another unexpected turn.
Back to Baldwin, Entering the Wood Flooring Business.
After graduating from culinary school, I returned to Baldwin with high hopes and dreams of becoming a chef. However, life had a way of redirecting my path. My mother was dating Irving, a warm and generous man who owned a successful wood flooring business. At first, I didn’t think much of it. I had just completed my studies and had been working in a few restaurants, eager to dive headfirst into my culinary career.
But as I spent more time with Irving, my perspective shifted. He had a passion for his work that was infectious. Whether we were discussing the intricacies of different wood types or the best tools for the job, he made even the most mundane tasks feel engaging. I found myself intrigued by the craftsmanship and artistry involved in wood flooring, from the careful selection of materials to the satisfaction of a job well done.
Before long, I had made the unexpected decision to leave the restaurant world behind and join Irving full-time. The transition was seamless. I started driving around New York City and Long Island with him, providing estimates for various wood flooring jobs. There was a rhythm to our workdays—a flow that came from navigating bustling streets, interacting with clients, and forging connections in the community.
One of the highlights of our days was visiting Santos, a cheerful wood flooring installer who had a wealth of knowledge and connections in the flooring industry. He had a knack for turning even the toughest jobs into something manageable. I can still picture us in his two-family home in Queens, loading heavy boxes of flooring nails into the car. Each box weighed about fifty pounds, and there were times we struggled under their weight, but the effort felt good. Santos always had a smile and a joke to share, making even the hardest days feel lighter. I often think of him, remembering the way he approached life and work.
As I immersed myself in the business, I realized I wanted to carve out my own niche in the wood flooring industry. Irving, my mentor, encouraged me to pursue my ambitions. He shared stories of his own journey and the possibilities that lay ahead, reminiscent of the encouragement Ralph had given me years ago at Baldwin Billiards. Irving introduced me to Gary Wexler, a seasoned wood flooring contractor based in Westbury, who ran two crews sanding wood floors daily. Working with Gary for six months taught me the ins and outs of the trade and gave me the skills I needed to branch out on my own.
During our drives, Irving often reminisced about Santos and mentioned that he had a wood flooring sanding machine and a spinner for sale. This equipment was exactly what I needed to expand my business. Santos was willing to sell it to me on a payment plan, making it more accessible. With my mother’s support, I managed to get a Chevy Malibu—a reliable car that would serve as my mobile base of operations.
With the sanding machine and the Malibu ready, I took the plunge into entrepreneurship. I hired Steven Bonano, a hard-working friend from Rockville Centre, to help with the jobs. Each morning at 5:30 AM, I’d pick him up, and together we’d drive into the city, the early morning quietly broken only by our chatter and the anticipation of the day ahead. The work was challenging but fulfilling; I relished the hands-on nature of sanding and finishing floors, transforming spaces with each job.
Irving was right. The work was steady, and soon I found myself in a rhythm. Each job Irving sold for $1,500 meant I would earn $750. The steady flow of work kept me busy and motivated. I was no longer just a kid figuring things out; I was building a business, and with every floor we completed, I felt a sense of pride and accomplishment.
Looking back, the shift from culinary arts to the wood flooring business felt serendipitous. I still cherished the lessons I learned in the kitchen, but now I was discovering new passions in craftsmanship and design. As I drove through the familiar streets of Baldwin, I felt a renewed sense of purpose. The journey had brought me full circle, and I was ready to embrace the challenges and rewards of my new path.
The transition into the wood flooring business was both exhilarating and demanding. Each day brought a new challenge, whether it was working on a high-profile installation in Manhattan or transforming a cozy home in Long Island. I quickly learned to appreciate the nuances of the craft—the importance of precision in measurements, the art of selecting the right finish, and the satisfaction of seeing a floor come to life under my hands.
With Steven by my side, our partnership blossomed. He brought a sense of humor and camaraderie that made the long hours fly by. We shared stories and laughter, often reminiscing about our youthful days, while also dreaming about the future. I appreciated having someone I could rely on as we tackled job after job. His work ethic mirrored my own, and together, we made a formidable team.
As our reputation grew, so did the demand for our services. Clients began to seek us out, impressed not only by the quality of our work but also by the personal touch we brought to each project. We took the time to listen to their needs, offering suggestions and solutions that turned their visions into reality. I discovered a new joy in customer interaction, finding fulfillment in helping people create beautiful spaces.
However, the challenges of running a business were not without their hurdles. Some days, the workload felt overwhelming. There were moments when equipment malfunctioned or unexpected issues arose on-site. I remember one particularly grueling job where we had to strip and refinish an entire floor just days before a client’s big event. The pressure was on, but I channeled the determination I had learned from my culinary days. We worked late into the night, fueled by takeout and a shared commitment to deliver quality.
Irving remained a crucial mentor throughout this journey. He would check in regularly, offering advice and encouragement. I appreciated his insight, especially as I navigated the complexities of running a business—managing finances, hiring additional help, and maintaining the quality of our work. He had a knack for seeing potential where I sometimes saw obstacles, and his belief in me bolstered my confidence.
As the months rolled by, I began to envision the future of my business. With the sanding machine I had purchased from Santos, I started taking on larger projects. I even considered expanding my services to include more intricate flooring designs and custom installations. It was thrilling to imagine what I could accomplish, but I also knew I had to approach this growth strategically.
One day, while driving back from work, I had a moment of clarity. I wanted to create not just a business, but a brand that represented quality and craftsmanship. I began sketching ideas for a logo and thinking about how to market our services effectively. I realized that I could blend my culinary background with this new venture by incorporating an emphasis on aesthetics and design—just as plating a dish is an art, so is laying a floor or sanding a floor.
Inspired, I started networking within the community, attending local business events, and connecting with other tradespeople. I reached out to designers and real estate agents, seeking partnerships that could lead to referrals. The more I engaged with others, the more I understood the importance of building relationships in this industry.
My hard work paid off when I landed a significant project for a boutique hotel in the city. It was a game-changer. The management was impressed with our initial proposal, and I felt a mix of excitement and nerves as I prepared for the job. We spent weeks meticulously planning and executing the installation, ensuring every detail was perfect. When it was complete, the owners praised our work, and I couldn’t help but beam with pride.
That project opened doors to more opportunities. I began to receive inquiries from other businesses and homeowners looking for quality wood flooring. As my client base expanded, I realized I had created something meaningful—a business that not only supported me but also allowed me to express my creativity and passion for craftsmanship.
Reflecting on my journey, I felt a deep sense of gratitude. I had come a long way from my days in the restaurant industry. The lessons learned in culinary school—the importance of hard work, attention to detail, and creativity—had seamlessly translated into my new venture. I was building a life that aligned with my values and aspirations, and with each completed project, I felt more confident in my abilities.
With the support of Irving, Steven, and the lessons of my past, I was ready to take the wood flooring business to the next level. I was not just laying floors; I was crafting a legacy, one that intertwined my love for artistry, community, and the relentless pursuit of excellence.
As my wood flooring business gained momentum, I found myself in a whirlwind of activity. Each day brought new projects, from high-end residential installations to commercial spaces eager for a fresh look. With Steven’s continued support, we were able to tackle more complex jobs, often working late into the night to meet deadlines. The camaraderie we shared only strengthened as we faced challenges together, each successful project reinforcing our bond.
One afternoon, as we were wrapping up a job at a quaint café in Baldwin, I received a call from Irving. He had a lead on a large project that could be a turning point for my business—a historic building in downtown Brooklyn that was being converted into luxury apartments. The owner wanted to preserve the building’s charm while updating the flooring, and Irving thought I would be perfect for the job.
I felt a mix of excitement and apprehension. This was a significant opportunity, and the pressure was on. I gathered my thoughts and prepared a detailed proposal, showcasing my vision for the space and emphasizing my commitment to quality and craftsmanship. With Steven’s help, we put together a portfolio of our past work, highlighting our attention to detail and customer satisfaction.
When I presented my proposal, the owners were receptive. They appreciated my enthusiasm and vision, and soon after, I received the green light to begin the project. The excitement was palpable; this was my chance to elevate my business and make a name for myself in the industry.
As we began work on the historic building, I immersed myself in the details. I researched the best materials that would honor the building’s legacy while providing durability. Every day on-site felt like a new adventure, as I navigated the unique challenges that came with working in an older structure—uneven floors, hidden pipes, and the occasional surprise from the building’s history.
The team expanded as the project grew. I brought in additional workers, including a skilled installer named Geoffrey Frank, who had years of experience. He became an invaluable asset, sharing his knowledge and helping to streamline the workflow. Together, we worked tirelessly, ensuring that every plank was meticulously laid, every finish was perfect, and that the vision came to life.
Throughout the project, I leaned on Irving’s guidance. He often stopped by, offering advice and encouraging me to stay organized and focused. His faith in me was a driving force, reminding me of my initial leap into this industry. I wanted to make him proud, just as I wanted to prove to myself that I could handle this level of responsibility.
As weeks passed, the transformation of the building was astounding. The floors began to shine, reflecting the beauty of the architecture above. When the final touches were made, I stood back and admired our work. The floors were not just functional; they were a centerpiece that tied the entire design together. I felt a surge of pride; this project had become a testament to my journey and growth.
The grand opening of the apartments was a pivotal moment. The owners invited local media, and I found myself mingling with designers, architects, and potential clients. It was exhilarating to showcase the fruits of our labor and see the appreciation on people’s faces as they admired the floors. The buzz around the project began to generate inquiries from other businesses and homeowners in the area.
Soon after, I was approached by a local interior designer who was impressed by our work. She wanted to collaborate on several upcoming projects, and I recognized this as another opportunity to expand my business network. I realized that these connections were crucial not just for growth but for sharing ideas and inspiring one another.
With each project, I found a deeper passion for what I was doing. I had always enjoyed cooking and creating in the kitchen and shooting pool but now I was experiencing the same satisfaction in the craftsmanship of wood flooring. There was an artistry to it—an ability to transform a space, evoke emotions, and create a lasting impression.
Reflecting on this journey, I felt a profound sense of gratitude for all the experiences that led me here. From the pool hall to culinary school, to the wood flooring business, every step had shaped who I was today. I had built something meaningful, and I was excited to see where this path would take me next.
As I drove through Baldwin, the familiar sights felt different now, imbued with the promise of what was to come. I was ready for whatever challenges and opportunities lay ahead, knowing that I had the skills, the support, and the passion to thrive in this ever-evolving journey.
Starting My Own Business.
With my new sanding machine and spinner loaded in the Chevy Malibu, I was eager to embark on my journey as an independent business owner. The excitement was palpable, but reality quickly set in. The first few months were tough. I navigated the steep learning curve that came with running a business from scratch, grappling with logistics, scheduling, and the inevitable hiccups that come with any new venture.
There were days when self-doubt crept in, and I questioned whether I had made the right decision. But just like in pool, where every shot counts, I reminded myself that success in the wood flooring business demanded persistence, patience, and precision. I had learned to hustle in the past, and I was determined to apply that same tenacity to my new endeavor.
I established relationships with suppliers, starting with Long Island Maintenance, where I bought everything from polyurethane finishes to wood floor sealers to sandpaper. Jerry, who ran the store, quickly became a valuable resource. I visited him regularly, tapping into his extensive knowledge about flooring materials. He was always willing to offer advice, whether it was about the best finishes for high-traffic areas or tips on selecting the right grit of sandpaper for specific jobs. Building that rapport with Jerry over the years proved essential to my business’s growth.
Despite the support, the early days were challenging. One of the major hurdles I faced was the power of my equipment. The sanding machine I had initially purchased ran on 110 volts, which worked for smaller jobs but lacked the muscle needed for larger, more demanding projects. I quickly realized I needed an upgrade if I wanted to take on the types of jobs that could really propel my business forward.
That’s when I decided to invest in what we called the Big Machine—a powerful sanding machine that ran on 220 volts. It was a significant investment, but I understood that to grow my business, I needed to provide the best quality possible. After discussing my needs with Jerry, I found the perfect machine at Long Island Maintenance. It became the cornerstone of my operations, allowing me to tackle jobs that had previously felt out of reach.
Alongside the Big Machine, I also purchased a new spinner, which was essential for sanding the borders of floors, especially up close to the floor molding. Learning to use hand scrapers for tight corners became part of my routine, and I took pride in ensuring that every job was not just good, but perfect. In my mind, perfection wasn’t just a goal—it was a necessity. If I didn’t do a flawless job, complaints would trickle up to Irving, and then, inevitably, to my mother. That was a fate I wasn’t willing to face.
As my business began to stabilize, I found myself thinking about how to differentiate my services. I realized that to truly stand out, I needed specialized equipment that would allow me to tackle every nook and cranny of a space. That’s when I invested in an under-the-radiator machine, a handy tool that enabled me to sand flooring beneath radiators and other hard-to-reach places. This little investment made a huge difference; I was now able to ensure that every floor I sanded was flawless, regardless of the obstacles in the way.
I remember one job in a charming old house in Baldwin. The homeowners had painstakingly renovated every room, but the floors were a patchwork of unfinished sections due to the presence of radiators. When they saw the transformation, I achieved with the under-the-radiator machine, their eyes lit up with disbelief. It was moments like these that reinforced my belief in the importance of attention to detail and the pursuit of excellence.
Word began to spread about my work. Clients were thrilled with the results, and referrals started to pour in. The combination of my persistence and the quality of my equipment had begun to pay off. I also learned the importance of marketing. I created a simple portfolio of pictures in 1987, way before the internet was invented, showing the before and after photos of my projects, highlighting the transformation that my work could achieve.
As my clientele expanded, I started thinking about the future. I envisioned a company that not only focused on wood flooring but also embraced the idea of creating beautiful spaces. I wanted to partner with designers to offer complete renovation packages, turning my business into a one stop shop for clients looking to enhance their homes.
The vision was ambitious, but I felt ready to take it on. I had learned so much in a short time, and I was excited to see how far I could push my business. With each project, I felt more confident in my abilities, more connected to my community, and more determined to make a name for myself in the industry.
As I stood back to admire each finished floor, I realized that I wasn’t just building a business; I was crafting a legacy. A legacy that celebrated quality, creativity, and the relationships I had formed along the way. Each grain of wood beneath my fingertips represented not just a job completed, but a step further in my journey. The challenges I faced only fueled my determination, and I was ready to embrace whatever came next, knowing that with each challenge, I was shaping my future.
Building a Legacy.
With the momentum of my growing business, I felt a palpable excitement in the air. Each completed project not only represented a job well done but also the forging of my identity in the wood flooring industry. I had built a solid foundation, but I was eager to expand my vision further.
As the summer months rolled in, I started considering how to elevate my brand. I wanted to create something that resonated with clients, something that went beyond just wood flooring. I began to explore the idea of offering comprehensive home renovation services. This would allow me to collaborate with interior designers, contractors, and homeowners in a way that would create cohesive, beautiful spaces.
To kick off this new venture, I decided to host a small open house at my workshop. I invited local designers, real estate agents, and past clients, showcasing the various flooring options and samples I had in stock. I also prepared a few examples of past projects, complete with before and after photos to illustrate the transformations. It was a chance to connect with my community and demonstrate the quality and craftsmanship that defined my work.
The open house turned out to be a success. Attendees were impressed not only by the quality of the flooring but also by my passion for the craft. I shared stories about my journey, from my early days in the pool hall to culinary school, and now into the world of wood flooring. People appreciated the personal touch, and connections began to blossom.
Among the guests was a local interior designer named Rina, who approached me with enthusiasm. She loved my work and proposed collaborating on some upcoming projects. Her designs were fresh and innovative, and I was thrilled at the prospect of working together. We discussed how we could create a seamless experience for clients, combining her eye for design with my commitment to quality flooring.
In the weeks that followed, we teamed up on several renovations, combining our expertise to create stunning interiors. I learned so much from Rina about color palettes, textures, and the overall flow of a space. It was inspiring to watch our visions come together, and our collaboration quickly gained traction in the community.
As our partnership flourished, I realized that I needed to expand my team. I brought on a few more skilled workers, allowing us to take on larger projects while maintaining the quality that had become our hallmark. I carefully selected individuals who shared my commitment to craftsmanship and had the same drive to succeed. It felt good to build a team that mirrored my vision for the business.
With more hands-on deck, we tackled bigger jobs, from upscale residences to commercial spaces. Each project presented its unique set of challenges, but I was ready to face them head-on. I recalled the lessons I had learned early in my career—adaptability, attention to detail, and the importance of communication. I made sure to involve my team in the decision-making process, valuing their input and fostering a collaborative environment.
One of the most rewarding projects we undertook was for a community center that aimed to create a welcoming space for families. They wanted to revitalize their old, worn-out floors, and I saw this as an opportunity to give back to the community. We worked closely with the center’s management, offering our services at a reduced rate to help them achieve their vision.
When we finished, the transformation was breathtaking. The new floors added warmth and character, and the community center felt rejuvenated. Seeing the smiles on the faces of the families who would enjoy that space made all the hard work worthwhile. It reinforced my belief in the importance of giving back, and I made a mental note to continue supporting community projects as my business grew.
This approach paid off. I started receiving inquiries from clients outside Baldwin, including homeowners and businesses in neighboring towns. I was thrilled to see my reach expanding, but I also knew I needed to maintain the quality and personal touch that had defined my business.
I decided to implement a customer feedback system to ensure we were meeting and exceeding expectations. After each project, I followed up with clients to gather their thoughts and experiences. This not only helped me improve our services but also fostered a sense of trust and transparency.
One day, while sorting through feedback, I came across a note from a family whose home we had renovated. They expressed their gratitude for not just the floors but for the care and respect we had shown throughout the process. Their words resonated deeply with me. It wasn’t just about business; it was about building relationships and creating spaces where memories would be made.
Looking back on my journey, I felt immense pride. From the early days of uncertainty to the flourishing business I had created in wood flooring, every step had been worth it. I was no longer just a kid from Baldwin with a dream; I was a business owner, a community member, and a craftsman. As I looked forward to the future, I was ready to embrace the possibilities that awaited, knowing that my passion and dedication would continue to guide me on this remarkable journey.
Learning the Art of Business.
Running my own wood flooring business wasn’t just about physical labor—it was about learning how to manage a business, deal with clients, and handle the day-to-day challenges that come with being an entrepreneur. I had always been good at working with my hands, but running a business required a different set of skills.
I learned how to give accurate estimates, how to negotiate prices, and how to build relationships with clients. Irving had taught me a lot, but there were some lessons I had to learn on my own. Not every job went smoothly—there were times when a client would complain about something, and I had to figure out how to make things right. But I never backed down from a challenge, and over time, my reputation as a reliable, skilled craftsman grew, and I made a lot of money for that time. By the time I was 23 or 24, I was making a solid income from my wood flooring business, and things only improved as I got older. For nearly a decade, I poured my heart and soul into the work, learning not just the trade but how to run a successful business.
I took great pride in every floor I sanded, polished, and perfected. My work was my reputation, and I made sure that every customer was left satisfied. Over time, word spread, and my business continued to grow. I got so busy that I started hiring extra help when larger jobs came in. I was making enough money to live comfortably, which allowed me to buy my first house on Sportsman Avenue in Freeport, Long Island. It was a milestone moment for me—the house was a symbol of how far I had come since my early days hustling at Baldwin Billiards.
Reflections on Craftsmanship.
As I look back on my journey—from the days of vacuuming tables at Baldwin Billiards to becoming a chef, and now a successful business owner—I realize that the common thread through all of it has been craftsmanship. Whether it was perfecting a pool shot, creating a dish in the kitchen, or sanding a floor to perfection, I’ve always been driven by the desire to master my craft.
The lessons I learned in the pool hall—patience, precision, and perseverance—have carried me through every stage of my life. I’ve faced challenges, setbacks, and failures, but each one has taught me something valuable. The people I’ve met along the way—Ralph, Irving, Santos, my brother—have all played a role in shaping the person I am today. I worked hard and built something from scratch, and there’s a special pride in that.
It wasn’t just about making money; it was about perfecting a craft and building a legacy. I didn’t always know where life was going to take me, but I always put in the effort, no matter the field. That dedication had paid off in ways I couldn’t have imagined.
Falling in Love!
In 1989, everything changed for me when I fell in love with my first wife. It was an intense, whirlwind romance that shifted the entire direction of my life in ways I couldn’t have foreseen. At the time, I was living on Sportsman Avenue, fully entrenched in my wood flooring business. But love, as they say, has a way of transforming everything.
I was willing to make some bold decisions for her, and soon enough, we got married. That was the beginning of a brand-new chapter in my life. I decided it was time for a fresh start, so I sold my house on Sportsman Avenue. It wasn’t just a matter of starting over physically—I was ready to clear the slate entirely. I even sold all my wood flooring equipment to Jerry at Long Island Maintenance to pay off the debt I owed him. I didn’t want any unfinished business to hold me back as I set my sights on the future.
The next destination was Fort Lauderdale, Florida. It called to me, offering an exciting new beginning—new city, new climate, and endless opportunities. With everything packed up, we moved into a modest two-bedroom, two-bathroom apartment on the second floor. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was enough for us to start this new life together.
But the reality soon hit—I couldn’t live off my savings forever. It became clear that I needed to find a job to support our new life. My first job in Fort Lauderdale was in a boiler room, working as a broker selling precious metals—silver, gold, and platinum. While it wasn’t exactly what I had envisioned, it felt oddly familiar. The skills I had honed as a salesman and entrepreneur transferred seamlessly into this new venture. I adapted quickly and, in no time, I began to rise through the ranks.
Life was moving fast, and though Fort Lauderdale marked a new chapter, it was only the beginning of more adventures and challenges to come.
Life in Fort Lauderdale brought a mix of excitement, challenge, and the kind of uncertainty that comes with starting over. After the whirlwind romance and the rush to settle in a new city, the realities of building a life together began to set in. I threw myself into the job at the boiler room, putting in long hours to ensure we had enough to live comfortably. The job was tough and high-pressure, but in many ways, I thrived in that environment. It reminded me of the grind I had experienced before in New York, hustling to make things happen, whether in flooring, culinary school or shooting pool.
I worked alongside over 125 other telemarketers in a bustling, chaotic environment. We were all chasing the same goal—making the sale. The people I worked with were a unique mix of personalities, some who had been in the business for years and others, like me, who had found their way to this job as a steppingstone to something else. My previous experiences as a pool hustler, managing the pool hall at only 14 years old, managing men who were two to three or four times my age gave me an edge. I knew how to talk to people, how to build rapport, and most importantly, how to close deals. It wasn’t long before I was making solid commissions.
But work wasn’t everything. I had just gotten married, and the early days of our relationship were filled with excitement and possibility. We spent time exploring Fort Lauderdale, getting to know our new home. The beaches, the nightlife, the warm weather—it was a world away from the hustle of New York. For a while, everything felt like it was falling into place. My wife and I were building a life together, and despite the long work hours, there were moments of peace and joy that made it all worthwhile.
Still, the nagging feeling of needing more lingered. I couldn’t shake the sense that I was meant for something bigger. The boiler room was good for the time being, but I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life selling precious metals over the phone. I knew that eventually, I would have to pivot again, just like I had done so many times before.
In the back of my mind, I was already thinking about what was next. I wanted more than just financial stability—I wanted freedom, the kind of independence that comes from being your own boss. But for now, I focused on making the most of the present. Every day, I worked harder, saved money, and dreamed of what the future could hold.
Fort Lauderdale was just the beginning of this new chapter, but it was clear that the road ahead would be full of unexpected twists and turns. My love for my wife had brought me here, and I was determined to make this new life work, no matter what it took. The love that had brought us together was still strong, but the pressures of life were starting to creep in. As I would soon discover, balancing love, work, and ambition wasn’t always going to be easy. But then again, nothing worthwhile ever is.
Life in Fort Lauderdale and the Boiler Room.
The boiler room was unlike any place I’d ever worked in before—chaotic, intense, and overflowing with larger-than-life characters from all walks of life. Over 125 salesmen crammed into the same space, each one trying to outsell the others, battling for commissions like it was the last thing they’d ever do. The atmosphere was electric, and I immediately recognized the similarities to the pool hall back in Baldwin. There, like here, everyone was hustling, always trying to get the upper hand. This was just a different game, with higher stakes and even tougher competition.
For me, the high-pressure environment wasn’t intimidating—it was exhilarating. My years of experience, from running my own business to selling leads and precious metals, had sharpened my instincts. I knew how to work a sale, how to read people’s intentions over the phone, and most importantly, how to close a deal. It didn’t take long for me to rise to the top, establishing myself as one of the best brokers in the room. I sold precious metals—silver, gold, and platinum—to clients like a stockbroker would sell stocks. Every day was a grind, but it was also a game. And I knew how to win.
The hustle was relentless. Telemarketers around me were as aggressive as they come, and you had to be just as sharp or risk getting buried. But I thrived in that cutthroat environment. The energy of the room fueled me, and I quickly figured out how to maneuver through the chaos, using my skills to land the big sales. In a place like that, you had to have thick skin and a sharp mind, and luckily, I had both. The money was good. It was enough to support my wife and live comfortably, at least for the time being.
But the boiler room had its own dark side. Excess was the norm—parties, girls, gambling. It was easy to get caught up in it all. There was always something going on, whether it was a wild night out or a high-stakes poker game in some smoky back room. And in the office, when the phones weren’t ringing off the hook, we’d roll dice in the downtime, just like they do in Vegas. It was a reminder of the pool hall days, where the hustle and the games never seemed to end.
Despite the distractions, I managed to keep my focus. I wasn’t there to party or gamble away my hard-earned money. I was there to make a living, and that’s what I did. I had my priorities straight, and I wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of that. My wife and I were building a life together, and I knew that money was what would give us stability. As much as I enjoyed the rush of working in the boiler room, I always kept one eye on the bigger picture.
The boiler room was a wild ride, but I knew deep down that it wasn’t a place I could stay forever. It was thrilling while it lasted, but I needed more. I wanted to build something bigger, something that could last. This was just another chapter in my life, one that was full of lessons and experiences, but also one that would eventually come to an end.
For now, though, I was in it, living every day like it was a competition, knowing that the next big deal could be just one phone call away.
As time passed, the boiler room became like a second home to me, even with all its chaos. There was an undeniable thrill in being part of something so intense, where every phone call could either make or break your day. The stakes were always high, and that’s what kept everyone on edge. The constant competition wasn’t just about the money—it was about proving yourself every single day. No one wanted to be at the bottom of the board, and that’s what pushed me and everyone else to grind even harder.
I remember the rush when I’d close a big deal. It was like hitting a perfect shot in pool—a combination of skill, timing, and a little bit of luck. The clients on the other end of the phone didn’t know me, but I had a way of getting them to trust me. I’d paint a picture of financial security through precious metals, offering them a way to protect their assets. And often, they’d buy in. They didn’t know the reality of what it was like on my side of the phone, the sheer chaos that surrounded me as I made my pitch.
But with every high, there was a low. I’d see people around me burn out fast. Guys who’d come in full of energy, convinced they’d be the top broker in no time, only to crash after a few weeks or months when the pressure got to them. Some turned to gambling, others to alcohol or drugs. The parties that started as fun quickly spiraled into something darker for many of the people there. It was easy to lose yourself in that world if you didn’t have a strong sense of purpose. I saw good men fall into bad habits, their lives unraveling right in front of me.
For me, though, it was different. I stayed grounded, mostly because of my wife. She was my anchor, the reason I didn’t let myself get sucked into the darker side of the boiler room. I had responsibilities, and I wasn’t going to let anything jeopardize that. Sure, I enjoyed rolling dice with the guys and having a good time after a long day, but I always knew when to draw the line.
The money I was making gave us a comfortable life, but it wasn’t enough for me to settle. Deep down, I knew that the boiler room was just another step on my journey, not the destination. The work was exciting, but it wasn’t fulfilling in the way I wanted it to be. I had bigger dreams—dreams that extended far beyond selling precious metals over the phone. I wanted to build something of my own again, something that couldn’t be taken away with the swing of the market or the collapse of a company.
Still, I can’t deny the lessons I learned during those years. The boiler room taught me resilience. It taught me how to navigate high-stakes situations, how to keep my cool when everything around me was falling apart. I learned how to survive—and thrive—in an environment where only the strong lasted.
I’d see new guys come in, full of ambition, and I’d watch them make the same mistakes over and over—getting too comfortable too fast, or letting their success get to their heads. They’d start slacking off or get caught up in the distractions that were always lurking around. But I never made that mistake. I knew that in the boiler room, if you weren’t constantly hustling, you would fall behind.
There were moments when I considered what the next move might be. The thought of going back to running my own business crossed my mind more than once. I’d proven I could do it before, but this time I wanted something bigger, something that would allow me the kind of financial freedom I was after.
For now, though, I was biding my time, mastering the game in the boiler room, and saving up for the next big leap. Whatever that would be, I knew I’d be ready. But as much as I had a plan in the back of my mind, I couldn’t deny that part of me loved the rush of it all—the fast money, the thrill of the sale, the constant competition. It was addicting, and in a way, I wasn’t quite ready to let go of that yet.
This chapter of my life was far from over, but I knew it wouldn’t last forever. I just had to make sure I was ready for whatever came next.
Moving Up in the World – Commodities Broker.
After spending a year selling precious metals in the boiler room, I knew it was time to elevate my career to the next level. The job had been a great introduction to the world of sales, finance, and high-stakes deals, but I had always been fascinated by commodities trading. Unlike precious metals, which held a specific niche value, commodities trading dealt with the lifeblood of the global economy—oil, gas, agricultural products, and more. I saw it as the ultimate challenge and knew that if I wanted to break into this new world, I would need to earn a license as a full-fledged commodities broker.
The decision to pursue the license wasn’t one I took lightly. I knew it would require a serious investment of time and energy, especially with the pressure I was already under from my day job. But when I set my mind on something, I don’t stop until it’s done. So, I took a week off from work to buckle down and study for the licensing exam. During that time, I was glued to my study materials—books on market mechanics, trade regulations, and all the complex details that made up the world of commodities trading. I barely left the house, focusing all my energy on passing that exam.
When the day of the test arrived, I was as prepared as I’d ever be. And when I passed on the first try, the sense of accomplishment was incredible. I felt like I had just climbed a mountain. This wasn’t just a test—it was a steppingstone to something much bigger.
Soon after, I landed my first job as a licensed commodities broker at Briggs & Stratton, and that’s where the real journey began. Walking into that office for the first time was like stepping into a new world. The energy was electric, reminding me of the boiler room, but this time, the stakes were much higher. We weren’t just selling precious metals over the phone anymore—we were trading the kinds of commodities that shaped the global economy. Oil, gas, pork bellies, wheat, corn—these weren’t abstract assets, they were the essential materials that fed, powered, and built the world. I quickly realized this was serious business, and I was all in.
Working at Briggs & Stratton was a daily adrenaline rush. The markets were unpredictable, and the constant ups and downs meant that no two days were the same. One day you might be riding high, watching as oil prices surged and your clients raked in profits. The next day, the market might tank, and you’d find yourself scrambling to mitigate losses. It was a fast-paced environment, where every decision could have major consequences. But I thrived in that chaos. I had always performed best under pressure, and commodities trading was the perfect match for my skills.
I dove headfirst into the strategies of trading. I learned how to analyze market trends, anticipate price shifts, and understand the complex supply and demand factors that influenced commodity prices. I studied the global economy obsessively, tracking political events, weather patterns, and anything else that could impact the market. In commodities, knowledge was power, and I made sure to stay ahead of the game.
One of the things I loved most about the job was the thrill of closing deals. There’s nothing quite like the rush of making a trade, knowing that you’ve just secured a profit for your client—or avoided a loss in a volatile market. Every trade felt like a high-stakes game of chess, with millions of dollars on the line. You had to be quick, decisive, and always ready to adapt to changing conditions. And I loved every minute of it.
It didn’t take long for me to establish myself as one of the top brokers in the office. My ability to read the market and build strong relationships with clients set me apart. In no time, I was raising between $200,000 and $250,000 per month in fresh equity. The clients I worked with trusted me, not just because I could get results, but because I took the time to understand their goals and tailor my strategies to their needs. I wasn’t just pushing trades to make a quick commission—I was building long-term relationships, helping my clients grow their investments over time.
The more success I had, the more I pushed myself to keep climbing. But as much as I loved being a commodities broker, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I wanted more. Being a top broker was great, but I had always dreamed of building something of my own again. The entrepreneurial itch that had driven me in the past was starting to come back. I knew that I wasn’t cut out to work for someone else forever—I wanted to be my own boss, to create something from the ground up.
That’s when I met Danny Sterk. Danny was another broker with a sharp mind and a big vision for the future. We hit it off immediately, sharing a lot of the same values and ambitions. It didn’t take long before we started talking about going into business together. Danny had a background in telecommunications and wireless technology, and together we saw a huge opportunity in the growing wireless industry. We came up with the idea to launch Trans America Wireless Systems, a company that would sell wireless cable TV stations.
It was a bold idea, but we were confident that we could make it work. Wireless technology was starting to take off, and the demand for cable TV services was skyrocketing. We saw a gap in the market—there were plenty of small communities that didn’t have access to traditional cable infrastructure, and wireless cable offered a solution. We believed we could capitalize on that demand and build a successful business.
Launching Trans America Wireless Systems wasn’t going to be easy, but I was ready for the challenge. I had learned so much from my time at Briggs & Stratton—about markets, about business, about what it took to succeed. I knew that I could take everything I had learned as a commodities broker and apply it to this new venture. The stakes were higher, but I was ready to take the leap.
In many ways, starting Trans America Wireless Systems felt like a return to my roots. I was back in the entrepreneurial game, taking risks and betting on myself. But this time, I had a decade of experience under my belt, and I knew how to navigate the challenges ahead. I was excited about the future—about building something new, something that could potentially revolutionize the way people accessed television services.
As I prepared to leave the commodities world behind and dive into this new venture, I felt a mix of excitement and anxiety. I was walking away from a secure, high-paying job, but I knew that I couldn’t ignore the call of entrepreneurship. I had always thrived on risk, on the thrill of building something from nothing, and I was ready to do it all over again. With Danny as my partner, I felt like we had a real shot at making Trans America Wireless Systems a success. The future was uncertain, but I was ready for whatever came next.
The Rise and Fall of Trans America Wireless Systems.
Danny was a decade older than me, a smooth-talking schoolteacher with an entrepreneurial drive that mirrored my own. He wasn’t content with his teaching salary; he had ambitions to build something bigger—a brokerage firm of his own. But like so many ambitious people, he was short on capital. During one of our early conversations, he asked me how much money I had to invest. I told him the truth—I had $100,000 saved up, ready to take the plunge into something new.
That conversation sparked the beginning of Trans America Wireless Systems. We decided to incorporate the company and quickly moved forward with setting up an office in the Fort Lauderdale Corporate Park. The idea was simple: sell wireless cable TV stations through general partnerships, offering units at $15,000 apiece. This was cutting-edge technology at the time, and it felt like we were on the cusp of something truly revolutionary. Wireless technology was growing, and cable TV had immense demand, so why not combine the two?
The early days of Trans America were a whirlwind. With our pooled resources, we bought desks, phones, and hired brokers to work the phones. It was a fast-growing operation, with an energy that reminded me of my time in the boiler room, but this time, I was in charge. I took the role of president and treasurer, while Danny managed the legal side of things. We were both all in, building what we believed could be a multi-million-dollar company.
Our first big project was in Hot Springs, Arkansas. We needed to raise $3 million to install a wireless cable system there, and we were confident we could do it. The idea of bringing wireless cable to underserved markets was exciting, and we poured everything we had into making it a success. We expanded quickly, hiring more brokers—eventually growing to a team of 200. To drum up more business, we even ran infomercials, pulling in leads from all over the country. Things were moving fast, and the momentum felt unstoppable.
At first, it seemed like we were on top of the world. We successfully raised the $3 million for the Hot Springs system, which was a huge milestone. With that success under our belt, we turned our attention to our next project in Clarksville, Tennessee. We had already secured the wireless cable licenses for Clarksville, and it felt like we were on a roll. But, as with any business, things didn’t go as smoothly as we hoped.
The first snag came when our license for Hot Springs, Arkansas, ran into some unexpected complications. It was a tough situation, one that could’ve easily spiraled out of control. But I wasn’t about to let down the investors who had trusted us with their money. As an honest businessman, I made a swift decision to purchase the wireless cable licenses for Jackson, Tennessee. I transferred the investment from the troubled Hot Springs project to the new Jackson market, effectively giving our investors two markets—Hot Springs and Jackson. This move reassured them, and for a while, everyone was happy. My investors had faith in the company, and we kept moving forward.
We completed the fundraising for Clarksville, Tennessee, and soon after, we purchased wireless cable licenses for Valdosta, Georgia. Things were back on track, and we began raising money for this new market. It seemed like we had weathered the worst of the storm, and once again, everything appeared to be running smoothly.
However, success often comes with unforeseen challenges, and ours came in the form of the Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC). The SEC accused us of selling unregistered securities, a blow that none of us saw coming. At the time, we didn’t fully understand the legal intricacies of what we were doing. In our minds, we were selling units in wireless cable TV systems, not engaging in securities fraud. But the SEC saw it differently.
The legal trouble hit us like a freight train. Suddenly, everything we had built was in jeopardy. The SEC investigation cast a long shadow over the company, and it wasn’t long before our investors started pulling out. Word spread fast in the financial world, and the very momentum that had fueled our rise was now driving us into a tailspin.
We tried to fight back, to explain our side of the story, but the damage had already been done. Investors lost confidence, and without their backing, we couldn’t keep the company afloat. The brokers we had hired left, the office became quiet, and the deals that had once seemed so promising evaporated. It was painful to watch everything unravel.
In the end, the collapse of Trans America Wireless Systems felt like a slow-motion car crash. One minute, we were on the verge of changing the game with wireless cable TV systems, and the next, we were facing the harsh reality of legal and financial ruin. The SEC had effectively shut us down, and there was nothing more we could do.
Looking back, the rise and fall of Trans America was a whirlwind of ambition, risk, and ultimately, defeat. But I don’t regret any of it. The experience taught me more than any success ever could. I learned about the importance of understanding the legal landscape of business, the value of transparency with investors, and the reality that not every bold idea is destined for success.
Trans America was over, but I wasn’t. I had been knocked down before, and each time, I had gotten back up. This would be no different. The collapse of the company didn’t break me—it only reinforced my resolve. The entrepreneurial spirit that had driven me to start the company in the first place was still alive, and I knew that this wasn’t the end of my story. Trans America Wireless Systems was a chapter, not the final word.
As I closed the door on that venture, I was already thinking about what would come next.
Bouncing Back – Selling Leads.
After the fall of Trans America Wireless Systems, I was back at square one, but I wasn’t ready to let the setback define me. The collapse of the company had been a major blow—financially, emotionally, and professionally—but if there’s one thing I knew how to do, it was bounce back. Failure wasn’t new to me, and neither was picking myself up after being knocked down. The SEC may have put an end to Trans America, but they weren’t going to stop me from finding success again.
I reconnected with an old friend, John Fisher, who had been selling leads to stockbrokers. John was a sharp guy, and the lead-selling business intrigued me. It seemed like a low-overhead, high-reward type of operation, and I knew that with my background in sales, I could excel in this space. At first, the operation was small-scale—just selling leads to telemarketing companies here and there—but as I got more involved, I started to realize the real potential of the business. Leads were in high demand, and it didn’t matter what industry they were for: telemarketing, investment firms, sweepstakes. Everybody needed fresh leads to fuel their sales teams.
I was no stranger to sales. I had been selling since I was a kid running the pool hall, hustling clients and making deals with confidence far beyond my years. Back then, I was only 14, but I was already handling money and closing deals that most grown men would struggle with. That experience had shaped me into a natural-born salesman. I understood people, I knew how to connect with them, and, more importantly, I knew how to get close. The lead-selling business was just another opportunity for me to put those skills to work.
The business took off faster than I ever expected, at least for me. Not everyone had the same success, but I had the edge—years of experience, raw sales talent, and a hunger that hadn’t faded, despite the setbacks I’d faced. I was bringing in more business than I had anticipated, and soon enough, I was raking in cash.
As the business grew, I started thinking bigger. I knew I could take what I had learned and go off on my own, selling leads independently. When I told John about my plans, I expected him to try and talk me out of it, maybe even fight to keep me on board. But to his credit, he didn’t. Instead, he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse—a partnership. He recognized my value and wasn’t about to let me walk away without making a deal that worked for both of us. I accepted, and together, we expanded the business.
With John as my partner, we dove deeper into the world of leads sales. We were selling all kinds of leads—telemarketing leads, investmentleads, even sweepstakes leads. The demand was endless. Companies were willing to pay top dollar for qualified leads, and we had no trouble delivering. We were tapping into a lucrative network, and the money was flowing in faster than we could count it.
Within months, I was making $10,000 to $12,000 a week. The lead-selling business was a wild ride. The phone was ringing constantly, deals were being made left and right, and I felt like I was back at the top of my game. The adrenaline rush of closing big sales was addictive, and the cash that came with it was a bonus. I had worked hard to rebuild myself after the collapse of Trans America, and now it was paying off in ways I hadn’t imagined.
But like any industry, the lead-selling business had its darker side. The telemarketing world was full of shady characters, and many of our clients had connections to the mob. It wasn’t unusual to brush up against some less-than-reputable people in this line of work. I had to navigate these waters carefully, always staying aware of who I was dealing with and making sure not to get too close to the wrong crowd. There were plenty of guys in the business who didn’t play by the rules, and while we did our best to keep things above board, it was impossible to ignore the reality of who we were dealing with.
As we continued to grow, I could feel the weight of the industry shifting. The government had started to crack down on telemarketing, and regulations were tightening. It was only a matter of time before the market began to slow. The golden era of selling leads was coming to an end, and I could see the writing on the wall. But I wasn’t too concerned. By the mid-1990s, I had made more than enough money to live comfortably. I didn’t need the business to last forever—I had already secured my financial future.
Looking back, the lead-selling business was one of the most profitable ventures I had ever been involved in. It was fast-paced, exciting, and incredibly lucrative. I was able to use every skill I had learned over the years, from my early days hustling in the pool hall to my time as a commodities broker. It was a perfect storm of timing, talent, and opportunity, and I made the most of it.
But like all good things, it couldn’t last forever. The government’s crackdown on telemarketing changed the game, and soon, the demand for leads started to dry up. Companies were pulling back, and the market became oversaturated. While others in the industry scrambled to stay afloat, I was ready to step away. I had made my money, and I wasn’t interested in fighting against the tide.
By the time I decided to leave the lead-selling business behind, I had earned enough to live a life of comfort and security. I wasn’t interested in chasing more money for the sake of it. I had always believed that success wasn’t just about how much you made—it was about knowing when to walk away. And for me, that time had come.The lead-selling business had given me the chance to bounce back after a major failure, and for that, I was grateful. It taught me that no matter how far you fall, there’s always a way to rise again. As I closed the door on that chapter of my life, I knew that I was ready for whatever came next.
Bouncing Back – Selling Leads the year 1994.
The lead-selling business wasn’t just a lifeline—it was an unexpected goldmine. What started as a simple venture to get back on my feet quickly turned into one of the most profitable periods of my life. Every week brought new opportunities, and with each new client, I could feel the momentum building. The phone never stopped ringing, brokers and telemarketers were hungry for fresh leads, and John and I were perfectly positioned to meet that demand. It seemed like the more we sold, the more people came knocking, asking for more.
What made this business so unique wasn’t just the money—it was the sheer simplicity of the operation. Leads, at their core, are nothing more than names, phone numbers, and contact information, but in the hands of the right telemarketer or broker, they’re worth a fortune. These companies were willing to pay top dollars for the chance to connect with potential clients, and we had the supply they needed. I knew how to present the leads as indispensable assets to their business, which gave us incredible leverage in negotiations.
The beauty of selling leads was that the work never felt overwhelming. I had honed my skills over the years—first in the pool hall, then in the boiler room, and later as a commodities broker. Each experience sharpened my understanding of people, how to communicate, and how to close deals. In the leads business, I didn’t have to push hard to sell. I knew how to build relationships, how to gain trust, and ultimately, how to make our product seem like the key to our clients’ success. It wasn’t just about numbers; it was about making the leads feel like they were worth every penny.
While the business was going strong, I couldn’t shake the sense that we were playing in a grey area. The telemarketing industry was notorious for shady practices, and the deeper I got into it, the more I saw the less-than-reputable side of things. Many of the clients we worked with had ties to organized crime—mob connections that were too close for comfort. I wasn’t naïve. I knew that in an industry like this, you couldn’t always choose your clients. But I did my best to stay out of the dirtier side of things. My focus was on the business, on delivering leads and making money. If I could keep my distance from the criminal elements, I figured I’d be fine.
The relationships we had with these telemarketing companies were a balancing act. On the one hand, they needed us. They relied on our leads to drive their sales, and without them, they wouldn’t be able to survive. On the other hand, there was always the underlying tension of knowing that some of these clients weren’t playing by the rules. I remember one client who ran a telemarketing operation that, from the outside, seemed legitimate. But the more we worked with them, the more I realized they were using our leads to target vulnerable people with shady investment schemes. It was a line I wasn’t willing to cross, and I cut ties with them as soon as I could.
Despite the undercurrents of the industry, the business was booming. In just a few short months, I was pulling in $10,000 to $12,000 a week, more money than I had ever made before. The pace was relentless, but I loved it. The constant phone calls, the thrill of closing deals, the satisfaction of seeing the business grow—it reminded me of my time in the commodities world; only this time, I was running the show. John and I worked well together, and we built a solid operation. There was no doubt in my mind that we had tapped into something big.
But as much as I enjoyed the success, I knew the good times wouldn’t last forever. The government crackdown on telemarketing was inevitable. The industry had grown too fast, too big, and too corrupt for the authorities to ignore it any longer. By the mid-1990s, the writing was on the wall—federal regulators were coming after telemarketing companies with a vengeance, and that meant our business would take a hit.
For a while, we managed to ride the wave. Even as the government tightened regulations, we continued to find clients willing to pay top dollar for leads. But it was clear that the boom was coming to an end. The Telemarketing Sales Rule (TSR) was introduced, and with it came stricter guidelines on how telemarketers could operate. Suddenly, companies that had been buying leads from us by the thousands were being shut down or forced to scale back. The demand for leads started to shrink, and the golden age of telemarketing was over.
At first, I resisted the idea of leaving the business. I had made a fortune in such a short time, and it seemed crazy to walk away from something so lucrative. But the more I watched the industry change, the more I realized that staying in would be a losing game. Regulations were getting tighter, and the margins were shrinking. Plus, the risk of being caught up in a legal battle wasn’t worth it. I had seen too many people go down for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and I wasn’t about to be one of them.
So, I made the decision to step away. By the time I left the lead-selling business, I had made more than enough money to live comfortably for the rest of my life. It wasn’t just about financial success, though. It was about knowing when to get out. I had learned that lesson the hard way with Trans America Wireless Systems, and I wasn’t going to make the same mistake again. Timing is everything in business, and I knew that my time in the lead industry was over.
Walking away from the business wasn’t easy. I had poured my heart and soul into it, and for a time, it had been my ticket to financial freedom. But I had also seen the darker side of the industry, and I knew that it was only a matter of time before the government put an end to it completely. By stepping away when I did, I avoided the collapse that would eventually take down so many others in the industry.
Looking back, the lead-selling business was one of the most profitable ventures I had ever been involved in. It allowed me to rebuild after the collapse of Trans America, and it gave me the financial stability I had always dreamed of. But more than that, it taught me the importance of adaptability. In business, things can change in an instant, and the ability to pivot, to see the opportunity in failure, is what separates those who succeed from those who don’t.
By the mid-1990s, I was done with lead-selling, and I was ready to move on. The journey hadn’t been easy, but I had come out on top. And as I closed that chapter of my life, I knew that whatever came next, I would be ready.
Getting Bored with Florida – I Decided to Travel the World.
After several years of intense work selling quality leads, I found myself restless. Sure, I was making more money than I ever thought possible when I first started. But something was missing. My marriage had ended, and I only saw my kids on weekends, which left me feeling unanchored in Florida. The daily grind no longer excited me, and I was searching for something more—something adventurous. With no strong ties holding me down, I decided it was time to make a change. I needed a break from the monotony, and more than that, I needed to experience life beyond Florida’s borders. I wanted to see the world, and Southeast Asia had always intrigued me, so that’s where I decided to begin.
First Stop: Hong Kong
My adventure started in Hong Kong, a city that truly lived up to its reputation as one of the busiest, most vibrant places on Earth. I had heard stories about its neon lights, bustling streets, and nonstop energy, and being there felt like stepping into another world. One of the first challenges was learning to navigate the subway system—it was efficient but overwhelming for someone unfamiliar with the city’s intricate layout. The trains were packed with people, but I quickly got the hang of it. Mastering the subway allowed me to explore every corner of the city with ease, and I wasted no time immersing myself in the culture.
Hong Kong’s energy was contagious. From the markets to the skyscrapers, everything felt alive, pulsing with activity. The nightlife was unlike anything I had ever experienced. One night, I stumbled into a karaoke bar, grabbed a microphone, and belted out some classic rock songs in English. The locals loved it. Despite being thousands of miles from home, I felt welcome. I quickly made some friends, some of whom I stayed in touch with throughout my travels. I even started dating a few girls I met along the way. Life in Hong Kong was fast-paced and exciting, but after a few weeks, I started to feel restless again.
As thrilling as Hong Kong was, I craved something different. I had heard a lot about the Philippines, and so I decided it was time to move on to my next destination.
Exploring the Philippines
The Philippines was a different experience altogether. Where Hong Kong was polished and modern, the Philippines felt raw and chaotic. The streets were crowded, the air filled with pollution, and there was a sense of disorder that took some getting used to. Still, there was something charming about the country, especially the people. They were incredibly friendly, always smiling despite the challenges they faced.
One thing that caught me by surprise was the massive shopping malls. These places were huge—far larger than anything I had seen back home. Inside, there were movie theaters so large they could hold what felt like an entire city. It was impressive, and I spent hours wandering through these malls, marveling at their size.
While in the Philippines, I stayed in a hotel and dated several local girls. The experiences were fun and eye-opening, but the overall atmosphere of the country eventually got to me. The chaos and pollution became overwhelming, and I found myself ready to leave sooner than I expected. Before I left, though, one of the girls I had been seeing suggested I visit Indonesia. She spoke highly of the country’s natural beauty, and since I had the freedom to go wherever I wanted, I decided to take her advice.
Falling in Love in Indonesia
Arriving in Indonesia was like stepping into a completely different world. The landscapes were breathtaking, with mountains carved into rice paddies, stretching for miles. The beauty of the country captivated me instantly, but it wasn’t just the scenery that made Indonesia special—it was a girl I met shortly after arriving.
She was beautiful, and though we didn’t speak each other’s languages, we found ways to communicate. We gave each other nicknames—she called me “Banana,” and I called her “Donut.” It was a playful, fun relationship, but it became something more. I fell for her hard. Despite the language barrier, we spent as much time together as we could, and I found myself deeply connected to her in ways I hadn’t expected.
One of the most memorable experiences in Indonesia was when we flew to her hometown to meet her family. It was a rural area, and she had never been on a plane before. She was nervous and excited, holding my hand the entire flight. Her parents and grandmother welcomed me with open arms. Despite the lack of shared language, we managed to connect over meals, and I was moved by their warmth and hospitality. Meeting her family was a highlight of my time there, and it deepened my feelings for her.
But as much as I loved “Donut” and my time in Indonesia, I wasn’t ready to settle down. I still had places I wanted to explore. Saying goodbye to her was hard, but I knew it was time to move on. My next stop was Thailand.
Thailand: Bars, Girls, and a Wake-Up Call
If Hong Kong was vibrant and the Philippines chaotic, Thailand was something else entirely. I arrived in Bangkok, where the pollution was even worse than in the Philippines. But despite that, the city was alive with a different kind of energy—one that pulled me in immediately.
Thailand’s nightlife is famous for a reason, and it didn’t take long for me to see why. There were bars where rows of girls sat behind glass, almost like they were on display, waiting to be chosen. It was a bizarre and somewhat shocking setup, but it was part of the culture. The girls were beautiful, and it wasn’t uncommon to choose a girl, pay for her company, and head upstairs to a room in the hotel above the bar. It was a strange and thrilling world, one that I hadn’t experienced before.
During my time in Thailand, I fell for a few girls. We had good times together, but there was always a nagging thought in the back of my mind—the HIV epidemic was rampant in Southeast Asia, and no matter how careful I was, the risk was ever-present. Eventually, that fear started to outweigh the excitement, and after a few months of enjoying Thailand’s nightlife, I realized it was time to head home.
Home Again
After six months of traveling through Southeast Asia, I found myself longing for home. I missed my kids, and I missed the familiarity of Florida. I had experienced more than I could have ever imagined—navigating subways in Hong Kong, singing karaoke, dating girls in the Philippines, falling in love in Indonesia, and exploring the nightlife in Thailand. It was an adventure that gave me a new perspective on life and made me appreciate what I had back home.
Returning to Florida didn’t mean the adventure was over, though. I had learned so much about myself during my travels, and I knew that the next chapter of my life would be shaped by those experiences. I was ready to focus on my kids, my career, and whatever new opportunities came my way. Traveling had opened my eyes to the world, but it had also reminded me of the importance of family, stability, and home.
Southeast Asia had been an incredible journey, but it was just that—a journey. And as I settled back into my life in Florida, I knew there were still more adventures ahead, and I was excited to see where the road would take me next.
Returning to Commodities Trading.
Returning to Commodities Trading.
After returning from my Southeast Asian adventure, I knew it was time to get back to business. Traveling had been exhilarating and eye-opening, but I craved the structure and thrill of the financial world again. So, I decided to dive back into commodities trading—a familiar territory where I had always excelled. My time away had given me new energy, and I was ready to put it to use.
I joined a new firm called the Commonwealth Group and quickly found my rhythm. The fast-paced, cutthroat nature of the industry reminded me of my early days in the business, back when every call, every deal felt like a life-or-death situation. At Commonwealth Group, I used my skills as a broker to build a new client base. It didn’t take long before I was raising between $250,000 and $350,000 a month in fresh equity. The thrill of closing deals, of watching the markets shift in real-time, was like riding a roller coaster I never wanted to get off.
The job felt second nature to me. I was an expert at reading people and understanding what they needed. I knew how to turn a cold call into a hot lead, and how to close deals like few others in the business. The fast-paced environment suited me perfectly, and I thrived on the adrenaline of the constant market changes. The commodities market had always been a mix of opportunity and risk, and I loved balancing the two. It was a delicate dance, and I was one of the best dancers in the office.
Every day felt like an adventure. The highs and lows of the market kept me on my toes, and the constant hustle kept me sharp. There was something exhilarating about knowing that every phone call could lead to a huge win or a crushing loss. My ability to thrive under pressure made me a top broker at Commonwealth Group. I was back in my element, navigating the complexities of oil, gas, and agricultural products like it was second nature.
But after a few years of being one of the top brokers in the office, something began to shift inside me. The excitement that had once fueled me started to fade. I had been in the game for a long time, and while I was still great at what I did, I wasn’t as passionate about it anymore. The thrill of closing deals and watching the markets shift no longer gave me the same rush. I wasn’t sure what was missing, but I knew I was starting to feel burnt out.
The idea of spending the rest of my life making cold calls and chasing deals began to feel less appealing. I had seen the world, experienced life in ways most people never get to, and I knew there was more out there for me. I wasn’t sure what the next step would be, but I knew that I couldn’t keep doing this forever. I needed to make a change.
Coming Back Home
When I returned to Florida after my travels through Southeast Asia, I felt a strange mixture of relief and dissatisfaction. On the one hand, I was back in familiar surroundings, close to my kids, and able to return to a structured life. On the other hand, I had just spent six months living a life of freedom and adventure, seeing places and experiencing things that most people could only dream of.
The contrast between the excitement of my travels and the routine of life back home was stark. I had changed during my time abroad, and I couldn’t simply fall back into my old life without feeling like something was missing. My relationship with my kids remained my top priority, and I focused on spending quality time with them every weekend. But I knew I had to find a new direction for myself.
The fast-paced lifestyle I had experienced in Hong Kong, the Philippines, Indonesia, and Thailand had kept me constantly on the move, and it was difficult to settle back into the slower rhythm of life in Florida. I wasn’t the type to sit still. After all, my entire career had been about chasing opportunities and staying one step ahead. But now, I was at a crossroads. I had experienced the world, tasted freedom, and I couldn’t just go back to being the same person I was before.
Reconnecting with an Old Friend: The Start of Something New
It was in 1999, as fate would have it, that I reconnected with an old client of mine who had a dream of owning his own commodities office. He had made a decent amount of money working in the business and had saved up $100,000 to invest in starting his own firm. He wasn’t sure how to go about it, but he knew I had the experience and the connections to help him make it happen.
Having spent years in the commodities industry, I knew the ins and outs of setting up an office. I still had solid relationships with a few key players in New York’s larger clearing houses, so I helped him broker a deal where we could operate as an independent sales office of one of these clearing houses. It was the perfect setup. We would have the autonomy to run our own office while leveraging the established infrastructure and credibility of a major firm in New York.
I was excited about the opportunity. After years of traveling and searching for something new, this felt like a chance to build something again, to get back into an environment where my entrepreneurial spirit could thrive. I had always loved the challenge of building businesses from the ground up, and this new venture felt like the right step forward.
The Wild Commodities Office: Lloyd and the Amsterdam Adventure
For this new venture, I teamed up with Lloyd Dempsey, an old friend of mine who was one of the best salesmen I’d ever met. Lloyd, also known by his alias Lloyd Harrison, was a natural-born closer. He had a way with people, and his quick wit and charm made him a force to be reckoned with. One of his favorite sayings was, “If you want a friend, buy a dog,” which he’d tell clients who expected too much handholding. Another one of his classic lines, used when a client hesitated, was, “I’m not a dentist; I don’t pull teeth.” That line always got a laugh—and more importantly, it got people to make decisions.
Lloyd had his demons, though. He was addicted to crack, and it was no secret to anyone who knew him. Despite his addiction, Lloyd remained an incredible salesman. He could close deals during the day and chase his high at night. I kept him around because, frankly, he was too good to lose. But there were times when his addiction got out of hand, and I had to step in. I remember one time when I let him stay at my house for a few days because his mother had kicked him out of her mansion in Miami. She couldn’t handle his addiction anymore, and neither could I—but I didn’t want to see him out on the streets.
Running the Office in Amsterdam
Eventually, Lloyd and I decided to set up our commodities office in Amsterdam. The city had a lot to offer in terms of infrastructure, and we found offices that were already equipped with desks, phones, and the necessary tools to make international calls. This setup allowed us to hit the ground running, and soon enough, we had 50 people working for us. It was a high-energy environment—deals were being made left and right, and the hustle was palpable.
But Amsterdam had its distractions. The city’s famous liberal attitude toward vices like drugs and prostitution made it difficult for some people in our office to stay focused. It wasn’t uncommon for employees to work hard during the day and then indulge in the city’s temptations at night. Despite these challenges, we kept the business running and managed to grow our client base.
Moving On: After a couple of years, the chaos of running the Amsterdam office began to catch up with us. Lloyd and I were both in relationships with Brazilian women at the time, and the distractions of the city were becoming harder to ignore. We eventually decided to close the office and move on to the next chapter of our lives.Looking back, the wild adventure in Amsterdam was just one more experience in a life filled with excitement, risk, and opportunity. I had learned a lot, but I knew there were more adventures ahead, and I was ready for whatever was coming next. The journey was far from over.
Full-Time Web Development.
In 2022, I made a pivotal decision to dive headfirst into the world of full-time web development. After spending years in various industries—commodities trading, selling leads, and running wild business ventures—I found myself increasingly drawn to the possibilities of the digital landscape. The web was where the world was heading, and I knew that if I wanted to stay relevant, I needed to fully immerse myself in it.
My journey into web development began many years earlier. Back in 2001, I had teamed up with a talented web developer from India named Manu. Manu had become my technical backbone and, over time, a close friend. He was a genius when it came to coding and building websites, and together, we decided to embark on an ambitious project. Our plan? To purchase websites off eBay and build them into a unified eCommerce platform.
It was a bold idea. The concept was simple buy several small eCommerce sites, each with its own domain, and then merge them into a single platform that would capitalize on multiple streams of revenue. I envisioned creating a site that could compete with the big names, drawing traffic from various niche markets and consolidating them into one destination.
The idea was exciting, and for a while, it seemed like we were on the verge of something big. But, as with so many entrepreneurial ventures, the devil was in the details. The logistics of merging multiple sites proved to be far more complex than I had anticipated. Each site had its own technical framework, marketing strategy, and customer base, and integrating them into one seamless platform was a monumental task. On top of that, we lacked the financing needed to scale the project to the level it needed to be to compete in the eCommerce world.
As the months went by, it became clear that the project wasn’t going to work out. I like to joke now that if everything had gone according to plan, I could have been sitting here as the next Jeff Bezos. But, as with all entrepreneurial journeys, failure is just another steppingstone on the path to success. The experiment failed, but I wasn’t deterred. I had learned a lot from the experience, and I knew that I’d take those lessons into my next venture.
Even after the setback, I’ve always believed that every failure leads to a new opportunity. And sure enough, not long after, I stumbled across something that piqued my interest, the domain name Win The Lottery.com. I was browsing the internet one day when the name popped up, and something about it instantly clicked. I saw potential in that name. The idea of selling lottery tickets online—specifically US lottery tickets to Colombians and all South America—was something that hadn’t been done before.
Colombians had no access to purchasing US lottery tickets directly, and the lottery market in Colombia was strong. People loved playing the lottery, and the idea of being able to participate in the massive US jackpots seemed like a sure way to attract customers. On top of that, I liked that Cartagena, Colombia was only a two-and-a-half-hour plane ride from Miami, where I lived. The proximity made it easier for me to manage the business while still enjoying the tropical escape that Cartagena provided.
I bought the domain for $3,000 and began developing a plan. The concept was straightforward set up an operation in Colombia to sell US lottery tickets to locals and all South America. Who had no other way to buy them. I would base the business in Cartagena, where operating such a venture was legal, and tap into the existing enthusiasm for lotteries.
In 2003, I flew to Cartagena to scout out the market. The moment I stepped off the plane, I knew I had made the right decision. Cartagena was a vibrant city, bustling with activity and teeming with tourists from all over the world. It was the perfect place to set up shop. I had arranged to meet with a local tour guide named Rafael Herrera, who had been recommended to me before my trip. What I didn’t know at the time was that Rafael would become much more than just a guide—he’d become one of my closest friends and a crucial part of my ventures in Colombia.
Rafael picked me up from the airport, and we hit it off right away. Over the course of my trip, he showed me everything Cartagena had to offer, from the bustling local markets to the tourist hotspots. He had an innate understanding of the city’s rhythms, and his insights helped me get a feel for how things worked there. Cartagena was a hotspot for American tourists at the time, and the potential for business seemed limitless.
I rented an office in Boca Grande, one of the more affluent areas of the city, and began setting up the infrastructure for Win The Lottery.com. The office was equipped with five desks, telephones, chairs, and even a fax machine—everything we needed to operate. I hired three operators to manage calls and assist with customer inquiries, and for the next six months, we worked on building out the website. The site was beautiful by the time we finished it, and I was proud of what we had accomplished.
Unfortunately, despite all the effort and planning, the business didn’t take off as I had hoped. We were able to launch the website, and the initial interest was promising, but the numbers never reached the level I had projected. Without enough customers and the right marketing strategy, the business slowly fizzled out.
That’s the nature of entrepreneurship, though. Sometimes, even the best-laid plans don’t pan out. But the failure of Win The Lottery.com wasn’t a complete loss. The experience in Cartagena opened doors to new relationships, and my friendship with Rafael became one of the most valuable outcomes of that trip. Over the years, Rafael has continued to work with me in Colombia, helping me navigate the local business scene and acting as a trusted confidante.
Though the lottery idea didn’t pan out the way I had envisioned, Cartagena became a place that I frequently returned to. Every time I visited, I saw new opportunities, new possibilities. I stayed connected to the city, always on the lookout for the next big idea.
But my journey in the world of web development didn’t end there. Even after the lottery venture, I knew that digital space was where the future lay. I continued to explore opportunities in the web development world, working on new projects, buying and selling domains, and experimenting with different business models.
The web had limitless potential, and I was determined to find my niche within it. I wasn’t going to let one failure deter me. If anything, my experiences with Win The Lottery.com and the eCommerce project have made me even more resilient. Every setback was just another lesson, another chance to refine my approach and try again.
As I look back on my foray into full-time web development, I can’t help but appreciate the journey. While not every venture was a success, each one brought me closer to understanding the digital landscape and how to navigate it. I wasn’t just learning about web development; I was learning about myself, about how to adapt, pivot, and grow in an ever-changing world.
And as I continue to explore new digital ventures, one thing remains clear: the best ideas often come from the least expected places. You just must be ready to seize them when they arrive.
A Turning Point in Cartagena.
I had rented an office in Cartagena, Colombia, for a full year, with high hopes of breaking into the business of selling Florida lottery tickets. The plan seemed foolproof at the time—use my proximity to Miami and Cartagena’s vibrant tourist economy to launch a profitable venture. Yet, as the months dragged on, nothing substantial materialized. Despite Cartagena’s energy—the city was buzzing with tourists, and the local economy was steadily growing but my business remained stagnant. Translating that energy into something tangible, something profitable, turned out to be far more challenging than I had expected.
During the year, I poured time and resources into various projects, always thinking the next one would be the breakthrough. But nothing seemed to stick. The lottery ticket idea, which had initially seemed like a goldmine, just didn’t catch on. I kept refining the business model, tweaking the approach, but by month eleven, it was clear that my grand plan wasn’t going to pan out as I had hoped. Cartagena itself wasn’t a disappointment—the city’s beauty, the lifestyle, and the fun I had with the local girls made the experience enjoyable on a personal level—but from a business perspective, it was frustrating.
Just when I thought the year would end without a single business victory, the tides turned in the final two weeks of my lease. That’s when an unexpected opportunity fell into my lap. A buyer surfaced, interested in purchasing 1,000 commodities leads from me. After a long stretch of silence, this was exactly the break I needed.
With a renewed sense of purpose, I got to work. I knew this process well—it wasn’t my first rodeo in the lead-selling business. Back in the 1990s, I had made a fortune selling leads, and this was a chance to revisit those roots. I installed database software onto the office computers and imported the commodities leads from an Excel file I had acquired. I was meticulous, shaping the raw data into a comprehensive mailing list complete with telephone numbers, names, and addresses—everything the buyer would need to launch their own marketing campaign.
Once I had the leads organized into 40-leads per page, I converted the entire document into a PDF. As I stared at the finished product on my screen, I couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of accomplishment. After months of stagnation, I had finally achieved something tangible. This sale, though modest compared to the ambitious goals I had set for myself at the start of the year, felt like a victory. It was also a wake-up call—a reminder that I still had a unique skill set that could be profitable. I knew how to source, organize, and sell leads, and perhaps that was the key to my next venture.
That’s when the idea hit me. Why not focus on selling leads online? I had the experience, the skills, and most importantly, the connections. The domain Win The Lottery.com, which I had initially purchased to sell US lottery tickets to Colombians, hadn’t panned out as expected. But now, I saw a new use for it—a lead-selling platform.
Shifting the Focus: From Lotteries to Leads
I decided to repurpose Win The Lottery.com into a website dedicated to generating and selling leads. The internet was booming, and I knew that online platforms offered a level of scalability that traditional methods couldn’t match. The year was 2004 and I knew I could reach potential buyers across the globe, rather than limiting myself to local markets. And given my years in the industry, I had a clear understanding of how to source high-quality leads.
One of the first steps in building out the new platform was to tap into my old network. I still had contacts in the world of sweepstakes leads, and I knew that there was demand for these leads among telemarketers and other businesses looking to target consumers who had already shown interest in promotional offers. My friend, who was in the investment lead business, also became an invaluable resource. He provided me with a steady stream of leads, which I could in turn sell through my website.
But one of the real gems in my network was the connection I had to handwritten sweepstakes leads. These leads were pure gold because they were seen as more authentic and trustworthy by potential buyers. They weren’t just names pulled from a database; these were people who had physically filled out sweepstakes forms, which made them highly valuable to businesses looking for qualified leads. With these resources at my disposal, I knew I had the foundation for a successful venture.
Building the Business: A New Strategy Takes Shape
Turning Win The Lottery.com into a lead-generation website was the pivot I needed. The failure of the lottery ticket business wasn’t a setback—it was a redirection. Now, I had a clear vision of where I wanted to go. The world of leads selling was something I understood deeply. I knew how to source, organize, and market leads in a way that few others did. Plus, the internet allowed me to tap into global markets, which meant that my potential customer base was virtually limitless.
Over the next few weeks, I worked tirelessly on the website, designing it to be both user-friendly and optimized for generating sales. I wanted potential buyers to come to the site, easily navigate through the different types of leads on offer and make their purchases with minimal friction. The concept was simple, but the execution required precision.
By the time my year-long lease in Cartagena came to an end, I had built the foundation for what I hoped would be a profitable lead-selling business. The city, with all its beauty and charm, had offered me more than just a change of scenery—it had given me a new perspective. The first eleven months may not have gone as planned, but those final two weeks were a game-changer. The sale of the commodities leads wasn’t just a transaction; it was the catalyst for a whole new business model.
Back to Florida: A New Beginning
With my new plan in mind, I decided it was time to head back to Florida. Cartagena had been an exciting chapter, filled with lessons, fun, and a few personal victories. But now, I needed to focus on scaling the business, and for that, I needed to be back home where I could fully dedicate myself to the task at hand.
As I boarded the plane back to the United States, I felt a renewed sense of purpose. I wasn’t returning home empty-handed. I had spent a year in Cartagena figuring out what didn’t work, but more importantly, I had stumbled upon what could work. The experience had taught me the importance of persistence. If I hadn’t stayed for the full year, I might have missed out on that critical lead sale, which in turn sparked the idea for the lead-selling business.
Scaling the Business: Beyond Win The Lottery.com
By the time I returned to Florida, I was ready to hit the ground running. Win The Lottery.com was just the beginning. My ultimate vision was to create a network of lead-generating websites, each tailored to different industries—sweepstakes, investments, real estate, and more. The possibilities were endless. The internet offered me the chance to build a scalable and sustainable business that could reach customers around the world.
I spent the next several months working on additional websites, each with its own unique focus. I sourced leads from multiple suppliers, always ensuring that the quality was top-notch. The lead-selling industry was built on trust, and I knew that if I wanted to succeed, I had to deliver value to my customers.
As I look back on my year in Cartagena, I realize that it wasn’t a failure—it was a crucial step in my journey. The slow months, the setbacks, and the frustrations all led to that one sale, which in turn inspired an entirely new business model. Cartagena had been a place of learning, and the lessons I took from that year would fuel my success for years to come.
The sale of those 1,000 commodities leads wasn’t just a lucky break—it was the turning point that set me on the path to building something bigger than I had ever imagined.
The flight back to Florida from Cartagena was a time of reflection for me. I had spent an entire year in Colombia, immersing myself in the local culture, trying to establish a solid business with high hopes of making a fortune by selling Florida lottery tickets. But the outcome was far from what I had envisioned. The quiet months where nothing substantial materialized had made me question my choices, but the experience had taught me valuable lessons about adaptability, patience, and the unpredictable nature of business.
Cartagena had been a beautiful distraction, filled with fun moments, new friendships, and the thrill of exploring a new country. But as much as I loved the city and enjoyed my time there, the business venture had stalled. I wasn’t used to sitting idle for long. My history was built on fast-moving projects, closing deals, and making things happen—yet here, for nearly a year, it felt like I was constantly running into walls.
When the opportunity to sell those 1,000 commodities leads came during the final two weeks of my lease, it felt like fate was giving me one last chance to turn things around before the clock ran out. And I took it. The successful lead sale reminded me of my sales skills and the connections I had built over the years. As I organized those leads and finalized the sale, I had a surge of confidence. My instincts, which had been honed over decades of hustling in various industries, were still sharp. I hadn’t lost my touch—I just needed to pivot.
A New Business Model Emerges
That’s when the idea hit me selling leads wasn’t just a fallback option—it could be the next big thing. The sale of those 1,000 commodities leads was a reminder that leads generation was something I not only understood but excelled at. And now, with the internet rapidly transforming the way businesses operated, the opportunities to scale lead sales are limitless.
I began to formulate a new business model. What if I repurposed the domain name Win The Lottery.com—which had originally been intended for selling lottery tickets—to sell leads instead? The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. I had already built the infrastructure: the website was there, I had a network of suppliers, and I knew how to source high-quality leads. It was just a matter of shifting focus.
As soon as I arrived back in Florida, I got to work. The experience in Cartagena had given me clarity. I was going to build a lead-selling platform, starting with Win The Lottery.com. But I wasn’t going to stop there. I envisioned creating a network of websites, each one focusing on different types of leads—investment leads, sweepstakes leads, real estate leads, and more.
Building the Foundation
Back in Florida, I threw myself into the task of transforming Win The Lottery.com into a lead-generation machine. The beauty of the internet was that it allowed me to operate on a global scale. I didn’t need to limit myself to one market or one country. The potential customer base for leads was enormous—every business, regardless of industry, needed high-quality leads to survive and thrive.
I started by leveraging my existing network. I still had strong relationships with sweepstakes lead suppliers, who provided me with fresh, handwritten leads. These were highly valuable in the lead-selling industry because handwritten sweepstakes entries were seen as authentic and trustworthy. Buyers knew that these leads were real people who had physically entered their information, making them much more likely to convert into sales.
I also reconnected with my friend who was in the investment lead business. His expertise in generating investment leads proved to be a crucial asset, and together we built a steady pipeline of high-quality leads that I could offer on my platform. These leads were particularly valuable for brokers and telemarketers who needed qualified prospects for their financial products and services.
Expanding the Vision: Beyond Win The Lottery.com
As Win The Lottery.com began to take shape, I knew that I was on to something much bigger. The world of lead generation wasn’t confined to one niche or one industry. Every business needed leads, and the internet made it easier than ever to source and sell them. I started to brainstorm other domains and websites that I could build, each tailored to different markets.
My goal was to create a portfolio of lead-generation websites, each targeting a specific industry. The vision was to make it easy for businesses—whether they were in real estate, investments, telemarketing, or sweepstakes—to come to my sites, purchase leads, and quickly start converting those leads into sales. I could see how this model had the potential to grow exponentially. The beauty of it was that once the infrastructure was in place, the business could scale with minimal overhead.
I also tapped into my old-school sales tactics, ensuring that every lead I sourced was of the highest quality. In the lead-selling industry, reputation was everything. If I wanted to succeed, I had to make sure that my clients were getting value for their money. If they trusted the quality of the leads I provided, they’d keep coming back for more.
Learning from Cartagena: The Power of Persistence
Looking back, I realized that my year in Cartagena hadn’t been a failure—it had been a learning experience. The quiet months where nothing seemed to happen had taught me the importance of patience and persistence. If I had left the city earlier, I might have missed out on the deal that led me to my breakthrough. Sometimes, you have to go through quiet periods to get to the moments that matter.
The sale of those 1,000 commodities leads was more than just a transaction. It was the catalyst for my next venture. It reminded me that even when things seem slow, the right opportunity can come out of nowhere and change everything. Cartagena had given me the space to reflect, to recalibrate, and to rediscover what I was truly good at. It was a turning point, and it set me up for what was to come next.
The Next Phase: Scaling the Business
With the foundation for Win The Lottery.com in place, I began to scale the business. I hired a small team to help with website management, lead sourcing, and customer service. The beauty of the lead-selling model was that once the systems were in place, it didn’t require much overhead. Leads could be sold over and over again, creating a passive income stream that allowed me to focus on growth.
Over time, I expanded my reach. I started targeting different industries, from real estate to finance to consumer products. The demand for leads was insatiable, and I was more than happy to supply what the market needed. The internet was the perfect platform for this kind of business because it allowed me to reach customers across the globe without needing a physical presence in every country.
I also began experimenting with SEO strategies and online marketing to drive traffic to my websites. I knew that if I could rank higher on Google and attract more visitors, the potential for sales would increase dramatically. I immersed myself in learning about how to optimize my websites for search engines, how to create compelling content, and how to build backlinks to boost credibility.
A New Chapter Begins
As 2004 drew to a close, I reflected on how much had changed over the course of the year. What had started as a frustratingly slow business venture in Cartagena had transformed into a thriving lead-selling business that had the potential to scale globally. I had learned that setbacks are often just setups for something greater. The quiet moments are where the ideas form, and the breakthroughs happen when you least expect them.
The experience of selling those 1,000 commodities leads had reignited my entrepreneurial spirit. It had reminded me that I was still good at what I did, and that the world of business is always full of opportunities, as long as you’re willing to adapt, pivot, and keep moving forward.
Now, with a new business model in place, I was ready to take things to the next level. The journey had only just begun, and I couldn’t wait to see where it would lead.
Many avenues to success.
In the world of business, there are many avenues to success, and selling leads is one of the lesser known but highly lucrative paths. I was fortunate enough to find myself in this niche, and for five years, it provided me with financial rewards that far exceeded my expectations. I made over three million dollars during my time in the lead-selling business, perhaps even more, and I was able to retire comfortably in 2011. Looking back, I’m thankful that this chapter of my life brought me financial freedom and, most importantly, allowed me to distance myself from the less-than-desirable individuals who once plagued my phone lines with their constant requests to buy leads.
Entering the Lead-Selling Business
Before I found success in selling leads, my career path was quite varied. I had ventured into several different industries, but it wasn’t until I stumbled into the lead-selling world that I discovered a goldmine. Selling leads is essentially the practice of gathering lists of potential customers—people interested in specific products or services—and then selling those lists to businesses looking for warm prospects. For industries like investments, sweepstakes, and telemarketing, fresh leads are incredibly valuable.
At first, I started selling leads casually. I had a few connections here and there, and before long, I realized that there was a high demand for quality leads. With my business background and a knack for networking, I began sourcing leads from various places—sometimes even handwritten sweepstakes leads. My leads were genuine, and my clients quickly discovered that they could count on the lists I sold to generate real sales. Word spread, and soon enough, I was making serious money.
Scaling the Business
Once I realized the potential of selling leads, I scaled my business quickly. I invested in database software and hired a small team to help me manage the increasing volume. We created mailing lists, optimized our lead generation processes, and found buyers across multiple industries. My leads were in high demand, and every day brought in new clients who were eager to purchase my lists.
At the height of my business, I was making anywhere between $30,000 and $35,000 per week. The profits rolled in, and as long as I kept supplying quality leads, I had more than enough buyers. It was a fast-paced, high-pressure business, but I thrived in it. I had found a niche that worked for me, and I milked it for all it was worth.
One of the most important lessons I learned in this business was that quality matters. Not all leads are created equal, and the more targeted and reliable the leads, the higher the price it can fetch. I made sure to maintain the integrity of my lists, which allowed me to keep a steady stream of returning customers.
The Downside of the Business
However, not everything was smooth sailing. The lead-selling industry has its share of unsavory characters, and it didn’t take long for me to run into them. One of the most frustrating aspects of the business was dealing with low-quality buyers, particularly those from Jamaica. These buyers would constantly hound me, asking for leads at discounted prices or trying to scam their way into getting more than they paid for.
The phone calls from these individuals became relentless. Their tactics ranged from flattering to pushy, and in some cases, downright aggressive. I remember many sleepless nights with my phone buzzing off the hook as they tried to strike deals or convince me to sell leads on credit. While I had plenty of legitimate, high-paying clients, these low lives were always lurking in the background, making the business more stressful than it needed to be.
For a while, I put up with it because the profits were worth it. But as my business grew, so did my desire for peace and freedom from these constant disruptions.
Retirement in 2011
By 2011, I had made more money than I ever thought possible. I had built a successful lead-selling empire, earned millions, and saved enough to retire comfortably. The decision to step away from the business was not a difficult one. The constant barrage of phone calls, especially from unscrupulous buyers, had taken a toll on me. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life dealing with these individuals who brought nothing but frustration.
When I retired, I did so know that I had secured my financial future. I didn’t have to work anymore, and most importantly, I didn’t have to deal with the low lives who had made the latter years of my business career so unpleasant. No more calls from Jamaica, no more haggling over prices, no more stress.
Reflecting on the Journey
Looking back, my time in the lead-selling business was incredibly rewarding, both financially and in terms of the lessons I learned. It taught me the importance of building strong business relationships, the value of quality in any product or service, and the need to draw boundaries when it comes to dealing with difficult people. I’m grateful for the financial freedom it provided me, but I’m even more thankful for the fact that I was able to walk away when the time was right.
Now, I live a life free from the chaos of the business world, and I couldn’t be happier. My journey selling leads may have been brief, but it was more than enough to set me up for a lifetime of peace and comfort, free from the headaches that once consumed my days.
Coming out of retirement.
I have come out of retirement in the year 2022 I am now in the cyber security business
This is my first website cybersecuresoftware.com
After retiring from the lead-selling business in 2011, I enjoyed years of peace and freedom. I had enough money to live comfortably, and for a while, it seemed like the perfect ending to a long journey. But, as time passed, I began to feel the familiar itch to dive back into the world of business. I had taken a break long enough, and the evolving digital landscape caught my attention, especially the rising need for cybersecurity in the modern world.
The cybersecurity field intrigued me for many reasons. With everything from banking to shopping moving online, the demand for cybersecurity was skyrocketing. People and businesses alike were desperate to protect their sensitive information from hackers and breaches. The more I researched, the more it became clear to me: cybersecurity was the next big frontier, and I wanted to be a part of it.
The shift to digital wasn’t completely foreign to me. Back in the early 2000s, I had dabbled in website development with Manu from India, buying eCommerce sites and attempting to consolidate them. Although that project had failed, it gave me a foundation of knowledge and a hunger to try again, this time with a more focused approach. I wanted to create something lasting—something that combined my business acumen with the needs of the digital age.
And so, in 2022, I took my first steps toward launching a new venture in the cybersecurity field. I was no longer the young man running a pool hall or selling wireless TV systems—I was a seasoned entrepreneur with decades of experience across multiple industries. And this time, I was doing things on my terms.
Building CyberSecureSoftware.com.
My first cybersecurity website, CyberSecureSoftware.com, was born out of this renewed ambition. It wasn’t just about setting up a website; it was about creating a business model that addressed real, pressing needs in the market. I wanted to offer solutions for individuals and businesses to protect their data from online threats, but I knew that to succeed, I would need more than just a good idea. I would need a clear strategy.
Cybersecurity had become a massive industry, and there was no shortage of competitors. I needed a unique angle—something that would set me apart from the crowd. After much deliberation, I decided to focus on offering accessible, easy-to-understand software solutions. I wanted to demystify cybersecurity for the average person. So many cybersecurity companies catered to large corporations with complex needs, but small businesses and everyday individuals were being left behind.
The development process was intense. I worked closely with Manu and a few other developers to build out the platform, ensuring that it would be intuitive, user-friendly, and secure. At the same time, I began developing content to educate people about the importance of cybersecurity, writing blog posts about everything from effective cybersecurity training programs to understanding malware and ransomware. These blogs were meant to drive traffic to the site while also providing valuable information to those who were unfamiliar with the complexities of online security.
CyberSecureSoftware.com launched in late 2022, and the response was promising. The initial feedback was positive, and I could see the potential for growth. But I wasn’t done. The success of this first website only fueled my ambition to expand further.