By Michael E. Miller
By Allie Conti
By David Villano
By Jose D. Duran
By Michael E. Miller
By Allie Conti
By Kyle Swenson
By Luther Campbell
Life is tough for old musicians. Just ask Ricky Williams -- not the pot-smoking, team-quitting ex-Dolphin. This Williams is a six-and-half-foot-tall, blind piano player, lately of the Forge, currently of nowhere in particular. For the past decade Williams played piano a couple of shows a week at the club most likely to be the last stop for revelers before rehab. Willams says he was paid about $200 per night.
About a month ago Forge management told him not to bother coming in for his usual gig. They said in fact they wouldn't be needing him again for a while, a long while, because they were going to have a DJ instead. Indeed one of the Forge's latest schemes to restore some of the lost luster from its heyday as a gangster hangout replete with an acrylic fingernail full of Bolivian marching powder in every restroom stall includes entertainment by Miami Beach's DJ impersonator Elaine Lancaster.
Williams is an affable giant of a man, prone to hugging strangers, partial to Heineken, and never happier than when tickling out the classics on his 88s. That $400 a week was the main thing keeping him in his $850 apartment in North Bay Village.
Williams, 50, who is also a songwriter, says "They gave me no notice. I was a little hurt by that. I don't want to talk bad about them. I'm looking for work."
His friend and self-appointed agent Miki Adams, a scrappy blond blues singer from Los Angeles, met Williams while vacationing on South Beach a few years ago. She made an annual tradition of sitting in with him for a session at the Forge. The chanteuse, going through the trauma of a divorce and a recent relocation to Miami, found a cause in Williams's plight. "It's the emotional cripple helping the blind guy," she cracks. "They just let him go. No benefits, nothing. I know it's legal, but it isn't right. What kind of people do that?"
Adams got Williams a once-a-week session playing at the Michael Collins Grill on Lincoln Road. She also took him for a haircut and is shopping for some snappy suits to fit his large frame.
"We wanted to capture a little wider music format," acknowledged Maxwell Blandford, the stalwart promoter associated with the Forge. "The crowd out there now, they want more of a world beat. It wasn't the right format. I think he was contracted here. DJs or musicians usually work week to week and when it ends, it ends. It's the nature of the music business."
Only Indicted Passengers Beyond This PointIt sounds as if a federal investigation into alleged monkey business with public contracts at Miami International Airport is still alive. Knowledgeable sources say that a federal grand jury recently sent out a bunch of subpoenas requesting records that could be relevant to the case.
FBI agents and local cops have been scrounging around for about three years trying to figure out if a primate pack of lobbyists hired by Host-Marriott (now HMS Host) defrauded the public by using minority-owned businesses as fronts to qualify for an exceedingly lucrative airport contract approved by the Miami-Dade County Commission in 1998. Legendary lobbyists Chris Korge and Rodney Barreto were among the dudes who helped persuade a majority of commissioners to favor Host-Marriott's bid. The contract is estimated to have generated about $40 million per year in revenues from food and beverage concessions. According to the Miami Herald, some of the money received by Tito Gomez and other minority partners in the Host-Marriott deal may have ended up in the campaign contribution accounts of several Miami-Dade commissioners.
One recent subpoena recipient, Miami Airport Duty Free Joint Venture, was ordered to produce records related to Korge, sources tell The Bitch. The company's African-American minority partner, Carol Ann Taylor, operator of a store called Miami to Go, didn't respond to a request for comment. But another minority partner, Sergio Pino, did. "Never got a subpoena," the chairman of Century Builders Group assured. "Not involved in that anymore."
A School for ScandalOkay, so The Bitch got a C-minus on her quiz in baroque brochure literature. In fact she never even got the brochure, which clearly stated that Manny Alonso-Poch's new charter school, the Academy of Arts & Minds, would not have an eleventh grade until 2005 or a twelfth grade until 2006. That is why the enrollment for those grades this year is zero, Alonso-Poch scolds, not because school administrators canceled them, as reported here earlier this month. But now that this female dog has done her homework, she believes it is only prudent to review the lesson learned from AA&M, the pride of Coconut Grove's Commodore Plaza. Despite the brochure's assurances, AA&M did scrap its tenth grade this year, which caused a big problem for Alice Billman, who last spring had excitedly enrolled her talented tenth-grade daughter in the school to get her out of way-krowded Krop High, a magnet school.
Long story short, AA&M failed to notify Billman that tenth grade was kaput until the new Miami-Dade school year was about to dawn. By then it was impossible to get her kid into Krop, because it has about 500,000 kids on the waiting list. On August 13 -- three days before the first day of school -- she received an undated letter from Ed Fredie, chief education officer at Charter Schools USA, a private, for-profit company that helps manage AA&M. "After giving much consideration to our enrollment targets and budgetary constraints, and with the agreement of the Dade County Public School System, the Academy has decided to only serve students in the ninth grade for the 2004-2005 school year," Fredie wrote. "The Academy sincerely apologizes for any inconvenience the change may cause you."