As the Fulton Fish Market finally decamps for the Bronx, it's time to revisit by 2000 article from the Times on Donald Julich, aka the Shrimp King, now retired.
New Yorkers & Co.:
The Big Man in Shrimp
By DAN ACKMAN
07/02/00
YEARS ago, Donald Julich Sr. was eating lunch at Sweets, the famous South Street restaurant, now defunct, when a man came up behind him and said, "Excuse me, I understand you're the shrimp king of the Fulton Fish Market, and I'd like to shake your hand." The voice was familiar, and when Mr. Julich looked up, so was the face. Burt Lancaster was smiling at him.
"I'm happy to shake your hand," Mr. Julich recalls saying. "But as far as I'm concerned, you're the king. I'm just a peasant."
A king he may not be, but Donald Julich does have a throne, albeit a modest one, and a crown. The crown is Crown Fish Inc., his seafood business at the Fulton Fish Market. His throne is a bar stool on the sidewalk on South Street where for 52 years this square-shaped man with a hawkish face has presided over Crown Fish, buying shrimp and shellfish by day and negotiating with customers by night.
The Fulton Fish Market dates from 1869, when the first permanent building was erected on South Street. While fish that used to come in by boat is now trucked and flown in, the buying and selling continues as it has for decades. Fish is displayed in the open air on stands and in boxes that spill onto the sidewalk. Buyers and sellers meet face to face, without a fax machine or Internet connection in sight.
Mr. Julich, 70, the big man in shrimp, has witnessed as much of the market's history as any man alive. With the city considering plans to move the market to Hunts Point, in the Bronx, it is a history that may be coming to an end. Mr. Julich, though, is less concerned with history — "Don't put me down as an adviser to Abe Lincoln" — than with his part in what the city estimates is a billion-dollar industry.
His employees arrive about midnight to display the shrimp in sidewalk stalls. Mr. Julich shows up about 4 a.m., when the buyers start arriving.
On one recent morning, he faced off with a customer named John Kim, who owns a fish store in Queens. They spent a half hour haggling over a box of lobster tails. Mr. Kim wanted to pay $17.25 per pound. Mr. Julich held his ground at $17.50.
"Go on, get out of here," Mr. Julich said in an accent that betrayed his Newark roots. "Come back tomorrow and you'll pay $18 and feel lucky to get it." When Mr. Kim left, he said, "Don't worry, he'll be back." Sure enough, he was, an hour later. He paid $17.50 and groused when Mr. Julich told him he had just one box left to sell him.
Mr. Julich and Mr. Kim both finished with the deal, Mr. Julich's son, Donald Jr., marked the box with a black crayon and alerted a journeyman, as they are called, who grabbed the box with a cargo hook and hauled it to the parked trucks. In a concession to modernity, some of the journeymen use forklifts, which whiz by at a frightening pace.
By dawn, buyers are gone back to their stores and restaurants and Mr. Julich and his men are cleaning up and making calls to make sure that they have fish to sell the next morning.
Mr. Julich's father, Fred, once a restaurateur, started the family in this day-for-night existence in 1946. The son joined a year later after graduating from high school. In 1955, he took over the company, and the next year, his brother, Richard, joined him after a stint in the Navy. They worked as partners until Richard retired in 1992. When Donald sells his last shrimp, Crown Fish will go to his son and nephews, David and Richard, who joined in their late teens and who are now in their mid-30's. Dynasties of this sort are the norm on South Street, where businesses tend to stay in families for three and even four generations.
From the beginning, the Julichs specialized in shrimp, which has become "the No. 1 seafood item in the world today," Mr. Julich said. It is also, pound for pound, one of the most expensive, an important consideration in a business where sales space is at a premium.
OVER the years, Mr. Julich has expanded the line to include oysters, clams, scallops and lobster tails. Crown Fish has never dealt in fish, though, and the company name remains a mystery. "Why he called it Crown Fish, I'll never know," Mr. Julich says. Asked how much shrimp he sells in a week, Mr. Julich says, "Ask the I.R.S." Mr. Julich doesn't look rich. But then maybe people who work in the dead of night surrounded by the smell of fresh fish rarely do.
Buying and selling small marine crustaceans may seem a simple thing, but it is not without complexity. The 15 to 20 varieties of shrimp Mr. Julich sells come not just from the southern United States but from a dozen countries in Central and South America, along with other types of shellfish from as far away as Australia. In addition to knowing from where to buy at a given time of year, Mr. Julich has to anticipate what size shrimp his customers may want.
One of the major changes on South Street is the emergence of Asians like John Kim as a buying force. Depending on which owner is doing the estimating, Koreans and Chinese make up 60 to 80 percent of the buyers. One thing hasn't changed: the market remains a man's world. Almost no women work there. "Would you want your girl to work with these animals, these gorillas?" he says.
Mr. Julich and his fellow merchants complain that margins have shrunk in recent years. Since 90 percent of his sales are on credit, it's crucial that he know his buyers and keep after them for payments. For that reason, he says he has many acquaintances in the business but just a few friends.
"If they're a friend and you have a problem, it's harder to fix it," he says.
While the Fulton market looks a lot as it always has, Mr. Julich has seen it, like other central markets, decline in importance in the industry. He says that more buyers buy direct from sellers at the piers, sidestepping the market. Mr. Julich acknowledges the change and doesn't begrudge it when the buyer is making a substantial order. But he shows some anger at dealers who sell mostly to wholesalers like him but will sell a single box of shrimp or a single bag of clams direct to a restaurant. "I know why they do it, but in the end they're hurting their own business," he says.
While the market may not be the hub it once was, Mr. Julich agrees with his friend Dan, a fellow merchant, who says that it still sets the tone for the whole country.
Dan would not give his last name. People at the market are circumspect, knowing as they do that nearly every writer who visits focuses on its supposed domination by the Mafia. Mr. Julich says he has never had a problem with organized crime and adds, as do most people interviewed there, that allegations of mob rule are way overblown.
"I've been here 50 years and I've gotten to know pretty much everybody," he says. At other times, though, he cautions, "Be careful what you say because people could get annoyed."
The city has announced it is considering moving the fish market to Hunts Point. To Mr. Julich, the move would be a disaster. "You can't have the market behind a locked gate where you need a badge to get in and out," he said. "Buyers have to be able to walk around and look at what they want. This is an open market." He concedes that conditions at the market are primitive, but insists that they are sanitary.
There used to be a half-dozen stalls specializing in shrimp at the Fulton Fish Market, Mr. Julich says. Now there are just two. Does that mean he is now the king, as Burt Lancaster said? "Well, Lancaster's dead, so maybe that moves me up a notch. But I'm still a peasant."
Saturday, November 12, 2005
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
One weekend can make you a millionaire-- seriously
Ninety minutes into a recent speech on his life and how he lives it, Robert Kiyosaki called a break. Except it wasn’t a break because Kiyosaki hates breaks. He asked his listeners to review with their neighbors what they had learned so far. Mitch, a big fan of Kiyosaki and Rich Dad books, said that for him, “The key for me is: Don’t say ‘can’t;’ say ‘can.’ I’ve heard it before, but I can’t hear it enough.” Which works because Kiyosaki can’t say it enough.
Kiyosaki is the fabulously successful author of Rich Dad, Poor Dad and a shopping bag full of sequels. His speech to Mitch and about 400 of his fellow members of the New York City Cashflow Club was a warm-up of sorts. Two days later, Kiyosaki would arrive at Manhattan’s Javits Center, where a crowd of nearly 50,000 would mass for the Learning Annex Real Estate Wealth Expo. There made headlines drawing a $1.5 million fee for a one-hour speech. But if Trump was the star of the show, Kiyosaki was the lollapalooza’s workhorse, appearing three times over the course of the weekend, the last time to introduce the Donald.
Kiyosaki has transcended real estate guru status. He has become an all-purpose dispenser of wisdom. In a nutshell that wisdom is: The rich are different because they think different. Folks like his “poor dad,” a school administrator, may work hard and earn a good salary, but are perennially broke. His “rich dad,” actually the father of a friend, was unschooled, but amassed enough real estate to become one of the richest men in Hawaii. Poor folks say, “I can’t afford it.” The rich decide what they want, tie it up, and then figure out how to pay for it.
This is the lesson he taught the members of the Cashflow Club—a group devoted to Kiyosaki’s Cashflow 101 board game, which he says will transform your mindset in just a few sessions. He preached the same sermon to a crowd of 5,000 at the Real Estate Wealth Expo, many of whom were hard core Kiyosaki fans as well They’d heard it before, but they loved hearing it again.
Entering the Real Estate Wealth Expo was like walking into the vortex of the real estate bubble and visiting the seeds of the bust at the same time. With Trump drawing the masses, Learning Annex CEO Bill Zanker fielded an undercard that included legendary success coach Tony Robbins, hypnotist and “master of persuasion” Marshall Sylver, and all manner of real estate expert. The experts covered diverse specialties, everything from buying real estate cheap at probate, to buying at real estate cheap at auctions, to buying real estate cheap and flipping it quick. Then there were generalists like Robert Shemin, whose seminar was entitled simply and directly, “How to Be a Millionaire Real Estate Investor,” though in fairness pretty much every speaker was teaching that one.
Downstairs was an overflow room, where the big stars appeared on big screens, and smaller rooms for lesser lights. These were flanked by nearly a hundred exhibitors selling real estate, financing, services and still more advice. Developers from sunny climes like Florida and Las Vegas pedaled pre-construction condos. The condos were easily financed and ripe for flipping, one developer told me, because they were priced below market and the market was sure to rise since fresh retirees were arriving daily and bidding it up. It turned out finding below-market real estate was easier than I thought as here it was looking for me.
The gurus explained that there is plenty of property everywhere available from “motivated sellers” at “below-market” prices. That the gurus were surrounded by thousands of motivated buyers, representing millions more who had already bid up property prices seemed not to register. A good guru stays on message. “We do not buy retail,” intoned Scott Scheel, a specialist in commercial properties. “Do you think Donald Trump, buys retail?” he asked, invoking the man himself.
The key was finding it soon and selling it fast, and that could be done by learning a few “secrets.” Some of the secrets were aired to the thousands in the Javits Center. But the good guru withholds just enough to sell pricy courses a few weeks hence. There, in the company of just a few hundred, the more secret secrets would come to light.
Scheel for instance offered a course valued at $10,476, and a bargain at that. But then he priced it well below market himself-- at $1497 to the first 200 to sign up. At first, there were few takers. But as he moved to the back of the room, braying his pitch, he was joined by a few, and then man, an unruly mob clamoring for the bonus available to those at the front of the line.
If Scheel and folks like Ron (“How to Quick Turn Real Estate in NY with No Money Credit or Risk”) LeGrand were infomercials for themselves, Kiyosaki mastered the soft sell. While he punctuated his speech with examples drawn from his various books and lessons from his board game, he didn’t scream it. Still, pupils were drawn to his exhibit booth, which did a brisk business in books and CDs by Kiyosaki and by advisors to Kiyosaki, as well as in the cash flow game, which was selling for $175.
Though it’s easy to denigrate self-help authors in general and the Learning Annex in particular, finding a dissatisfied customer at the expo was like looking for an atheist at a revival meeting. Part of the reason: despite the grandiose claims of the gurus, expectations of the acolytes are generally modest.
Fans—and they were everywhere—were vague about their desires, but certain they’d been met. Michael Bressler, who works “in commodities” said, “He’s probably the only person who puts it in a simple message,” and added, “I look at assets the way he looks at assets. He’s just amazing.” Marie Menerville, a real estate agent and investor, said simply, “All his books are very informative, very motivational.” Many fans said reading Kiyosaki and playing his board game did indeed spur them to take control of their financial lives.
Although his message goes beyond real estate, most of his wealth, he says, is from property. Given his propensity, it’s natural to ask him whether real estate prices are at bubble levels. “Absolutely,” he told me, going so far as to compare the U.S. today to Weimar Germany. But with a bust imminent, his wife Kim advised, it’s more important than ever to separate good real estate deals from the bad.
How to know the difference? One way is to read a book just written by his own real estate advisor, Ken McElroy, and published in the Rich Dad series, or he can listen to Kim, who spoke on “How to Spot a Good Deal from a Bad Deal.”
Though Kiyosaki seeks his counsel in-house, the ordinary gurus do seem to learn from each other. LeGrand cited the wisdom of Sylver. Probate specialist Mark Gonsalves referred repeatedly to Kiyosaki. Everyone involved cited the example of Trump and the word of Robbins to the effect that you must “take action” especially with regard to signing on for additional seminars.
Only Trump himself refused to play the game. Not to denigrate the speakers who came before him, but “it’s all about instinct,” Trump said. His instincts, for instance, led to “The Apprentice” and success after success. He also advised the aspirants to be nice to their bankers so they won’t screw you. But if they (or anyone) do screw you, “You screw them back ten times harder.” Do what you love, stay focused and never quit, he said. Finally, “Be lucky,” he advised. The crowd stood and cheered for the man who Kiyosaki called “the world’s rich dad.”
On the way out, one man who would be Trump bellowing into his cell phone, reviewing the billionaire bromides. The man paused to listen. Then he said: “Sure I’ve heard it before, but it’s good to hear it from another perspective.”
Kiyosaki is the fabulously successful author of Rich Dad, Poor Dad and a shopping bag full of sequels. His speech to Mitch and about 400 of his fellow members of the New York City Cashflow Club was a warm-up of sorts. Two days later, Kiyosaki would arrive at Manhattan’s Javits Center, where a crowd of nearly 50,000 would mass for the Learning Annex Real Estate Wealth Expo. There made headlines drawing a $1.5 million fee for a one-hour speech. But if Trump was the star of the show, Kiyosaki was the lollapalooza’s workhorse, appearing three times over the course of the weekend, the last time to introduce the Donald.
Kiyosaki has transcended real estate guru status. He has become an all-purpose dispenser of wisdom. In a nutshell that wisdom is: The rich are different because they think different. Folks like his “poor dad,” a school administrator, may work hard and earn a good salary, but are perennially broke. His “rich dad,” actually the father of a friend, was unschooled, but amassed enough real estate to become one of the richest men in Hawaii. Poor folks say, “I can’t afford it.” The rich decide what they want, tie it up, and then figure out how to pay for it.
This is the lesson he taught the members of the Cashflow Club—a group devoted to Kiyosaki’s Cashflow 101 board game, which he says will transform your mindset in just a few sessions. He preached the same sermon to a crowd of 5,000 at the Real Estate Wealth Expo, many of whom were hard core Kiyosaki fans as well They’d heard it before, but they loved hearing it again.
Entering the Real Estate Wealth Expo was like walking into the vortex of the real estate bubble and visiting the seeds of the bust at the same time. With Trump drawing the masses, Learning Annex CEO Bill Zanker fielded an undercard that included legendary success coach Tony Robbins, hypnotist and “master of persuasion” Marshall Sylver, and all manner of real estate expert. The experts covered diverse specialties, everything from buying real estate cheap at probate, to buying at real estate cheap at auctions, to buying real estate cheap and flipping it quick. Then there were generalists like Robert Shemin, whose seminar was entitled simply and directly, “How to Be a Millionaire Real Estate Investor,” though in fairness pretty much every speaker was teaching that one.
Downstairs was an overflow room, where the big stars appeared on big screens, and smaller rooms for lesser lights. These were flanked by nearly a hundred exhibitors selling real estate, financing, services and still more advice. Developers from sunny climes like Florida and Las Vegas pedaled pre-construction condos. The condos were easily financed and ripe for flipping, one developer told me, because they were priced below market and the market was sure to rise since fresh retirees were arriving daily and bidding it up. It turned out finding below-market real estate was easier than I thought as here it was looking for me.
The gurus explained that there is plenty of property everywhere available from “motivated sellers” at “below-market” prices. That the gurus were surrounded by thousands of motivated buyers, representing millions more who had already bid up property prices seemed not to register. A good guru stays on message. “We do not buy retail,” intoned Scott Scheel, a specialist in commercial properties. “Do you think Donald Trump, buys retail?” he asked, invoking the man himself.
The key was finding it soon and selling it fast, and that could be done by learning a few “secrets.” Some of the secrets were aired to the thousands in the Javits Center. But the good guru withholds just enough to sell pricy courses a few weeks hence. There, in the company of just a few hundred, the more secret secrets would come to light.
Scheel for instance offered a course valued at $10,476, and a bargain at that. But then he priced it well below market himself-- at $1497 to the first 200 to sign up. At first, there were few takers. But as he moved to the back of the room, braying his pitch, he was joined by a few, and then man, an unruly mob clamoring for the bonus available to those at the front of the line.
If Scheel and folks like Ron (“How to Quick Turn Real Estate in NY with No Money Credit or Risk”) LeGrand were infomercials for themselves, Kiyosaki mastered the soft sell. While he punctuated his speech with examples drawn from his various books and lessons from his board game, he didn’t scream it. Still, pupils were drawn to his exhibit booth, which did a brisk business in books and CDs by Kiyosaki and by advisors to Kiyosaki, as well as in the cash flow game, which was selling for $175.
Though it’s easy to denigrate self-help authors in general and the Learning Annex in particular, finding a dissatisfied customer at the expo was like looking for an atheist at a revival meeting. Part of the reason: despite the grandiose claims of the gurus, expectations of the acolytes are generally modest.
Fans—and they were everywhere—were vague about their desires, but certain they’d been met. Michael Bressler, who works “in commodities” said, “He’s probably the only person who puts it in a simple message,” and added, “I look at assets the way he looks at assets. He’s just amazing.” Marie Menerville, a real estate agent and investor, said simply, “All his books are very informative, very motivational.” Many fans said reading Kiyosaki and playing his board game did indeed spur them to take control of their financial lives.
Although his message goes beyond real estate, most of his wealth, he says, is from property. Given his propensity, it’s natural to ask him whether real estate prices are at bubble levels. “Absolutely,” he told me, going so far as to compare the U.S. today to Weimar Germany. But with a bust imminent, his wife Kim advised, it’s more important than ever to separate good real estate deals from the bad.
How to know the difference? One way is to read a book just written by his own real estate advisor, Ken McElroy, and published in the Rich Dad series, or he can listen to Kim, who spoke on “How to Spot a Good Deal from a Bad Deal.”
Though Kiyosaki seeks his counsel in-house, the ordinary gurus do seem to learn from each other. LeGrand cited the wisdom of Sylver. Probate specialist Mark Gonsalves referred repeatedly to Kiyosaki. Everyone involved cited the example of Trump and the word of Robbins to the effect that you must “take action” especially with regard to signing on for additional seminars.
Only Trump himself refused to play the game. Not to denigrate the speakers who came before him, but “it’s all about instinct,” Trump said. His instincts, for instance, led to “The Apprentice” and success after success. He also advised the aspirants to be nice to their bankers so they won’t screw you. But if they (or anyone) do screw you, “You screw them back ten times harder.” Do what you love, stay focused and never quit, he said. Finally, “Be lucky,” he advised. The crowd stood and cheered for the man who Kiyosaki called “the world’s rich dad.”
On the way out, one man who would be Trump bellowing into his cell phone, reviewing the billionaire bromides. The man paused to listen. Then he said: “Sure I’ve heard it before, but it’s good to hear it from another perspective.”
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