Ellis Rubin did not respond to requests for an interview for this story. His two sons say they know nothing about the townhouse at 2025 NE 123rd St. Guy Rubin volunteers: "[Siskind] has absolutely no relationship with my father. I don't think he's ever even seen him. Maybe he's seen him walking down the street, but that's it."
Many who have had business dealings with Martin Siskind want to forget them. But John Lowther wants to tell the world. For months he has deviled law enforcement agencies and reporters throughout South Florida to explore the twists and turns of Siskind's past, and his manifold connections to the Rubin dynasty. After a recent screaming match with one reporter, Lowther delivered a tiny bottle of Radenska mineral water and a note scrawled in a shaky hand: "To you this is just a story. To me, this is my life!"
Lowther was successful in pressing police to arrest Siskind for grand theft in connection with the unauthorized transfer of his office furniture from the Golden Bagel to the Playboy Club. (Those charges are pending in Broward County.) Lowther's bar complaint against Mark Rubin, filed June 11, 1991, is currently being reviewed by Florida Bar officials in Tallahassee. A local committee judged it unworthy of their time, and Lowther promptly complained to the committee members' superiors in the state capital, thereby necessitating the review. Paul Gross, counsel to the local bar but not a member of the committee, says the proper forum for Lowther's grievance is the civil courts. "I'm not saying who's right and wrong, but not every disagreement is an ethics matter," he notes. "We don't want to be like Big Brother, putting lawyers under the microscope every time they look at someone the wrong way."
Lowther's lawsuit against the Rubins - accusing them of theft and trafficking in stolen goods - churns on and on with no end in sight, even as Siskind's grand-theft trials in Dade and Broward draw closer. Both Lowther and the Rubins accuse one another of legalistic trickery, harassment, failing to show up for scheduled depositions, and a host of other sins. Of the thousands of pages of court filings, letters, and manifestos he has generated, Lowther's effort of June 7, 1991, directed at Guy Rubin, shines as one of his more stylish and philosophical, if a little preachy:
"One would expect a respectable person," Lowther wrote, "especially an attorney, who is innocent of any wrongdoing, to immediately rectify the situation by returning stolen property to its owners, cooperating with the authorities in an investigation of this matter, inviting victims into the Playboy Club to identify and reclaim their possessions, apologize to these victims and compensate them for their losses, and otherwise conducting himself with some modicum of human decency and respect for the rights of others.
"Instead," the letter continued, "you and your brother have threatened to sue people, including the police, refused to cooperate in returning stolen property, attempted to prevent people from learning about this sordid affair, and have now even sued victims whose property has been stolen, demanding that they pay you for the pleasure of having you wrongfully withhold their property, all while your father sits back and watches you slowly twist in the wind."
Mark Rubin, writing on behalf of his brother, and in the third person, was equally forceful three days later, and more succinct: "Contrary to your assertion, Martin Siskind is not and has never been an authorized agent of Mark Rubin," he wrote. "Your assertion [that] Mark Rubin has actively aided and abetted criminal activity is libelous per se and actionable under Florida law if said assertion is published to any third party." Rubin ended his letter by putting Lowther "on notice" that any public dissemination of his comments would be "by swift legal action."
After midnight, in a back room near one of Miami's many murky waterways, a man agrees to talk about Martin Siskind, but only anonymously: "I've known Martin for years," he says with a flickering grin. "He's a con man, pure and simple. I've watched all his scams. I've even helped out on a few. But Martin really has a taste for it.
"The thing you have to understand, though, is that all the people he's been fucking lately were asking for it," the man goes on. "They were looking for something for nothing. If you've got ten grand and you want to turn it into twenty overnight, Martin will somehow find you. Did he con the Rubins? We can't figure it out. Who knows what they were doing with that shitball building in the first place? It doesn't make any sense."
Guy Rubin says he doesn't know what will become of the old Playboy Club. As for its former tenant, he has this to say: "The classic definition of a con man is someone who intends to deceive from the beginning. I don't think Martin fits that mold. I don't think that Martin operates with an evil intent. The people who are disappointed or have lost money and time and investment have lost it because Martin perhaps isn't qualified to do all of the things that he thought he was qualified to do."
