DOJ evidence release
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- DOJ Data Set 8
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Isiassithiasisis ICINWCYM C nymag.com IQ Click to Print Billionaires Are Free ')PRINIT And, these days, a dime a dozen. But even for today's b boys, there are some things money can't buy. • By Vanessa Grigoriadis Deep in the wilds of Chelsea, there is a door. The door has a screen, and the jet-black eye EFTA00013635 of a promoter behind that screen, peeping out to gauge your social viability. Are you a model? Or a billionaire? It will be hard to get in otherwise. Around midnight, the most beautiful young models in the city arrive, squired in quickly, their backs with shoulder blades like arrows disappearing inside. Door, as the nightclub is creatively called, popped up late this summer. No one is supposed to know it's there. It is where moguls go: After the Yahoo board meeting, Jeny Yang and David Filo came by. Mother night in the fall, Sergey Brin and Larry Page were there. Supermarket billionaire Ron Burkle, Virgin head Richard Branson, and Steve Bing, the down-to-earth Democratic donor who inherited nearly a billion dollars from his real-estate-magnate grandfather, the developer of some of the most beautiful Art Deco buildings on Park Avenue and the West Village. Advance men for President Clinton. Few other guys can get in, except for a couple of model wranglers, those handsome, usually South American guys who round up models at their apartments and herd them to nightclubs. Promoter Danny A., a friend of Ron Burkle's, runs this place—he even got to go on a trip to Israel with President Clinton. The wranglers are the only people in here not having fun: One hand on a mojito, they are nervous as they text madly on the phone to more girls, more girls, more girls. For the rest of the city, the door is closed. A few handsome bankers wait on the sidewalk outside the club for a half-hour, scraping their shoes. "I guess I'm a zero-value-added person in this equation," says one, stepping away, disappointed. At the very pinnacle of the New Yor […]