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Photo Courtesy Of Alan Gross FLUSHING, N.Y. - Mitchell Gardens would never be mistaken for a palace, but inside the Pearlman family's tiny third-floor apartment, little Lou was king. His parents, Hy the dry cleaner and Reenie the school lunchroom aide, slept on a fold-out couch in the living room, giving their only child the bedroom. Lou spent hours on that bedroom floor, playing the board game Life with Alan Gross, his childhood buddy who lived one floor up. Gross still recalls a time Mrs. Pearlman watched them play. Lou gave the spinner a whirl, then cheated by moving his car game piece an extra space. "I called Lou out on it and his mother, seeing what he did, admonished me," Gross said, still indignant more than four decades later. Gross was three years older - about 12 at the time - and Mrs. Pearlman thought he should let Lou win. "Even though I was very young, it made me realize how our upbringings differed," Gross said. "If my mother saw me cheat, she would never let me hear the end of it." Until his world came crashing down nine months ago, Pearlman was a celebrated Orlando music producer known for introducing the Backstreet Boys and *NSYNC to the world. But long before that, he was a kid from the New York City borough of Queens with a reputation for cutting corners and embellishing the truth. Their parents are now dead, but Gross still lives in the building where he and Pearlman grew up and got their feet wet in the aviation business before taking different paths. He vividly remembers both the old grudges and the good times they spent together. Now a part-time interviewer for the Census Bureau, Gross, 56, suffers from a blood disorder and struggles to pay his bills. But he turns passionate when the subject is air pollution, blimps or his childhood playmate. Pearlman, 53, is an inmate in the Orange County Jail, indicted on bank fraud charges and accused of swindling banks and investors out of nearly $500-million. He lost his possessions in bankruptcy and is now reduced to calling old friends collect. Gross said the phone calls bring out mixed feelings. He said he hurts for the elderly investors who trusted Pearlman with their life savings, now gone, but he can't turn his back on his childhood friend. "We grew up as brothers and we have this special bond," he said. "As much of a liar as he is, I tend to believe that he didn't want to hurt anybody. I think he thought he'd make enough money to pay everyone back. He was always looking for the next big score. It just unraveled a little too quickly." |
