The Liar's Ball. Ward Vicky

knows that Rob's playing both these roles, but.. it's often easier to negotiate through someone [that way]. Both sides can use Rob as a conduit to negotiate without having to face each other directly. When you're in a relationship as a lender and a borrower, everybody wants to be buddy-buddy.”

      Schwartz, a former lawyer and Moody's Investors Service analyst, liked working with Macklowe and the Robs. He believed he always understood where they were coming from and where they were aiming. He liked that Macklowe developed only in a market the bank felt he truly understood: New York City.

      But most important from Schwartz's perspective, Macklowe always offered his business to Deutsche Bank first. “Harry is a serial entrepreneur,” Schwartz says. “He needs a lot of people around him who are loyal – that's how entrepreneurs work.”

      For Macklowe, earning Schwartz's trust was crucial. He was the conduit to the rest of the bank's real estate team: they included Jon Vaccaro, Deutsche Bank's Global Head of Commercial Real Estate; Justin Kennedy, a Stanford University graduate and son of U.S. Supreme Court Associate Justice Anthony M. Kennedy; and Tobin “Toby” Cobb, the son of an ambassador.

      But when Horowitz called Schwartz about the GM Building, he was surprised to learn that his friends at Deutsche Bank had a conflict and couldn't back Macklowe. They were backing Vornado Realty Trust, the massive public REIT founded and run by Macklowe's friend, helicopter co-owner – and nemesis – Steven “Steve” Roth.

■ ■ ■

      In some ways this was understandable.

      Vornado was a public company with a market capitalization of more than $5 billion. Given the amount of debt that would need to be raised for this deal, Vornado was a far more credible bidder than a solo developer like Macklowe. But there was also another, more human factor. Vornado held a card that, for Deutsche Bank, would always trump Macklowe. His name was Michael “Mike” D. Fascitelli.

      Fascitelli was a good-looking, fit Italian-American who had grown up in a “rough” neighborhood in Rhode Island. He was irreverent and irrepressible. Until 1996 he'd run the real estate department at Goldman Sachs, where he had trained, among others, Justin Kennedy and Toby Cobb. They adored him. He still used the vernacular of his youth and computed complex figures faster than most people can make a call on their iPhone. He had few pretensions. He called things exactly – and hilariously – as he saw them.

      In 1996, Steve Roth realized he needed a second in command, someone with credibility, leadership, and charisma – and he had seen these qualities in Fascitelli. Roth paid Fascitelli $50 million to run Vornado as its president.

      Since then, it was no secret that Fascitelli kept trying – and trying – to buy the GM Building. The files of paperwork representing the countless hours he spent on the structure took up the most shelf space in his office. “She's like the girl you keep asking to the prom but says no,” he joked. “And each time you ask, she gets more expensive.”

      Her price was what worried him in 2003. He told Eric Schwartz he wanted Deutsche Bank to finance Vornado's bid – but he wouldn't pay “stupid money.” If Harry Macklowe was prepared to “blow us all out of the water,” let him – and Fascitelli would try to come at the building through a back door. That's how this game worked.

      Meanwhile, Harry Macklowe needed to figure out how to claim his prize with a lender other than Deutsche Bank.

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      Robert “Rob” Verrone was in Harry Macklowe's office with Rob Horowitz in the summer of 2003 when Macklowe said: “I'm going to bid for the GM Building. Will you lend us the money?”

      This was the moment Verrone had been angling for since being promoted, in 2001, to run Wachovia's loans department. His eagerness to establish Wachovia as a major lender in real estate circles had earned him the sobriquet “Large Loan” Verrone.

      Verrone was not a member of the Fascitelli-trained club that filled the desks at Deutsche Bank. He had a big smile and a shaved head. He'd grown up in a large, blue-collar Catholic family in New Jersey. He was direct and ambitious, yet not overbearing. He'd learned the business in Bear Stearns's gumshoe, commercial real estate securitization department before joining Wachovia in 1995 (which, at the time, was called First Union Bank). He, with his wife and four children, had lived in Charlotte, North Carolina, until 2001, when, thanks to his promotion, they moved to Chappaqua, New York.

      They were still unpacking boxes when Harry Macklowe summoned him to his office. “My wife had to unpack the whole house,” Verrone later said. “Maybe this is the reason we're [now] divorced.”

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      The two men had met at the annual Cooper-Horowitz party in 2001, where Verrone had introduced himself to Macklowe. Macklowe told him, “Show up early at my office tomorrow morning.”

      Verrone had stayed sober. He drove home in the small hours to shower and change and immediately headed back to the city to meet Macklowe and Horowitz. “Maybe that impressed [Macklowe]. I don't know. Or maybe I am just good-looking and charming,” Verrone jests.

      Wachovia lent Macklowe $125 million for a building at 125 West 55th Street.

      Soon after, Macklowe chose Verrone as the banker for the tactical deal on Central Park that was intended to show Eastdil he was a “closer.” As negotiations on that purchase wound down, Macklowe told Verrone about the GM Building.