He’s a specialist in buying and (sometimes) turning around distressed properties, it would seem. He’s also characterized as a hard-charging businessman who leaves bruised feelings in 
his wake. “He’s not someone who’s going to consider the other person’s point of view. If you want to deal with Straub, you have to deal with him from his point of view. It’s usual, when you speak to people, you talk about things like humanity and compassion and all of those things. They’re not in his lexicon” says one person who’s collided with the mogul, already famous for his Delphic utterances in re Revel, whose sale closed today at four cents on the dollar. He’s also known as someone who specializes in
short-term investments, from asphalt plants to marinas. He’s also tenacious about litigation, carrying one lawsuit all the way to West Virginia‘s supreme court, even though it only involved 11 grand. He’s got dreamy plans for Atlantic City that include “two marinas that 
can host super yachts, and an equestrian facility on 81 acres close to the beach with the capacity for 1,000 horses.” But woe betide you if you spite him: When he couldn’t get the right to convert part of Palm Beach‘s Martin Downs Country Club into a polo field, he shut down both golf courses, the whole kit ‘n kaboodle. So be forewarned, Atlantic City: He could walk out on you on a whim or he could go the whole nine yards — there’s no telling which.
As for Revel, “It has been the most marketed casino asset in the U.S. This has been the broadest, most diverse process we have ever been involved in,” said Ramy Ibrahim, of Moelis & Co., which shopped the property to 250 potential purchasers. Yet, out of all those hundreds, only four made offers and only Straub put cash on the barrelhead. That should tell you how much of a white elephant he’s taken on. If he wants to challenge his ingenuity, he’s got his work cut out for him.
* Texas‘ tolerance for black market casinos has got its Native American tribes up in arms. Both the Alabama-Coushatta and Tigua tribes were compelled to shutter their casinos in 2002. But the flourishing “eight-liner” network of fly-by-note casinos peppering the Lone 
Star State made headlines in the New York Times and has some tribal leaders chafing at the double standard. The Alabama-Coushatta band is so desperate for a Class II casino that it would waive $271 in recompense for mineral and timber rights out of which it was bilked, plus the restoration of ancestral lands, if it could just have that casino.
“We’re willing to forgive the past and walk away from our rights in order to have some economic independence in the future,” rationalized. Rep. Steve Stockman (R, right) is trying to shepherd legislation through Congress that would bring just such a compromise into being. Until then, Texans willing to settle for Class II gambling have to go to Kickapoo Lucky Eagle Casino, on the banks of the Rio Grande. And for the full, Class III experience, Lake Charles and Shreveport beckon from across the Louisiana border.
