Dezer's Big Deal: The Sequel

He's young, brash, and talks trash -- no wonder people sue him

 "When a girl quits here, what does she say? Sexual harassment!" groans Gil Dezer with a dismissive shake of his head. "When a guy quits here, what can he say? Ultimately he's looking for money too. So he's going to throw as much at the wall to see what sticks. Wouldn't you?"

The site of all this employee strife is the $600 million Trump Grande Ocean Resort and Residences, a three-tower condo project whose hulking physical presence in Sunny Isles Beach is matched in scope only by the sheer crassness of its developers -- Donald Trump, and the father-son team of Dezer Development, Michael and Gil Dezer. For 29-year-old Gil, who as a junior-high student wrote a starry-eyed book report on the best-selling manifesto Trump: The Art of the Deal, the Trump Grande is an opportunity to apply those lessons alongside the famed real estate mogul himself. "He plays in big amounts," Dezer says admiringly of Trump, sitting inside his own 31st-floor Trump Grande office. "Big properties, big numbers, big people. So you have to plan your chess moves in a big way."

To hear many of his fellow real estate figures in Miami tell it, however, Gil Dezer's rapid muscling into South Florida's luxury-condo market is a case of too much too soon. And sexual-harassment allegations are merely an indicator of the type of behavior that has local Realtors gossiping up a storm. Conversations with Dezer's associates, as well as his own staffers -- past and present -- paint a portrait of a dealmaker all too willing to embody Trump's brashest moments. If chess is the metaphor at hand, Dezer's signature move seems to be the violent upending of the entire board, a characterization Dezer himself doesn't dispute.

Dezer the diplomat: "I say fuck you all the time. 
actually I say, 'Get your fuckin' job done!"
Jonathan Postal
Dezer the diplomat: "I say fuck you all the time. Or actually I say, 'Get your fuckin' job done!"

"Yeah, I can rip into somebody pretty good," he admits. "And you know what? It works, because whatever they were doing, they don't do it again."

So the accounts of abusive profanity during business meetings? "I say fuck you all the time," Dezer chuckles in response. "Or actually I say, 'Get your fuckin' job done!' I'm from New York," he adds, referring to his suburban New Jersey childhood, "it's part of where I come from. Most people don't get offended by that." How about the stories of screaming fits that reduce employees to tears? "I yell and scream, and fifteen minutes later it's like nothing happened. My close circle gets it. They say, 'Oops, I fucked up!'"

Is he brusque? Sure, he concedes, but he's also the progeny of Michael Dezer, the son of a bus driver who arrived in New York City in 1961, fresh out of the Israeli army, and never looked back as he amassed a downtown real estate fortune. "My father is Jewish and he lays the guilt on pretty thick," Gil explains. The pressure on him to succeed isn't just intense, he notes. It's often unrelenting.

To be fair, much of the grousing in Realtor circles about Gil Dezer undoubtedly flows from the competition for high-end condo buyers his Trump Grande presents. Plus he's a youngster overseeing a project ten times the size of many others being built by more experienced local developers. Certainly that can't endear him. It's a resentment likely sharpened by Dezer's lack of polish, a freewheeling saltiness he's quick to dispense in a business milieu where even sworn enemies tell reporters their rivals are wonderful human beings, just fabulous to work with.

But that flurry of legal papers would seem to indicate that Dezer's style, while generating condo sales, is also causing plenty of in-house friction. At last month's 2004 BEST Awards -- sponsored by the Builders Association of South Florida, the Miami Herald, and El Nuevo Herald -- much of the city's real estate community turned out as Dezer was honored with the title "Best Sales Director of the Year" and Dezer's PR guru Arthur Metz was named "Best Marketing Director of the Year." Make that former PR guru. The next time those two meet, they'll likely be in a courtroom.

Metz declines to comment on his lawsuit's allegations, but they repeat many of the more over-the-top tales surrounding Dezer, from a rain of "verbal insults" aimed at Metz "regarding his sexual orientation and purportedly feminine mannerisms," to "offensive and unwelcome physical contact" with "rolled paper, trash, contracts, and condominium documents as well as advertising specialty items, many of which actually struck him." All this "in front of numerous co-workers and employees as well as third parties doing business with the Trump Grande project." Far from being a case of office high jinks, Metz's suit insists, Dezer's "conduct was so extreme and outrageous as to go beyond all possible bounds of decency as to be regarded as atrocious and utterly intolerable in a civilized society."

Wow. With a copy of Metz's lawsuit in hand, Kulchur begins reading aloud this descent into barbarism: Gil, what on earth is going on inside your office?

"He's fishing," Dezer says matter-of-factly, chalking up the lawsuit to a disgruntled ex-employee looking for some payback -- and a substantial payday. "Metz had a great mind, [but] he outlived his usefulness." Hence his dismissal. And the alleged abusive language? "The same language I used with him, I've been using with you," he argues. "There was no problem with his being openly gay.... If one of your friends is gay, you talk about it. In an office of twenty people, you're like a family, you talk about it."

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