Alberto W. Vilar a high-flying investor who rode the technology-stock bubble arrested on charges of defrauding clients of his firm

Alberto W. Vilar a high-flying investor who rode the technology-stock bubble and spread his largess throughout the cultural world, Mr. Vilar tumbled off the stage on May 26, 2005, when he was arrested on charges of defrauding clients of his firm, Amerindo Investment Advisors. With his trial opening on Monday — the same day his beloved Metropolitan Opera starts its season — Mr. Vilar sounds defiant about his legal troubles and still boastful about his past financial success. He is angry at prosecutors and the news coverage and disillusioned about those he once counted as friends.“I’ve been fighting some charges I think are preposterous, and thank God they’re going to trial soon,” Mr. Vilar, 67, said, speaking slowly and quietly. The strict conditions of his $10 million bail have been eased. “But I don’t lead a very normal life,” he said, “with the brutality of the criminal justice system on my back.”Mr. Vilar had already suffered a fall from grace before his arrest, when arts institutions disclosed that he had failed to keep up with his pledges. The Metropolitan Opera — to which he promised $20 million but, by his own admission, gave half of that — took his name off its grand tier; the Royal Opera at Covent Garden in London removed “Vilar” from its Floral Hall; the Salzburg Festival took his picture out of its programs.Now the United States government will lay out the full extent of its allegations. Jury selection starts on Monday, with opening arguments on Thursday before Judge Richard J. Sullivan in United States District Court in Manhattan. The trial is expected to last seven weeks. Mr. Vilar’s business partner, Gary A. Tanaka, will also go on trial. “He looks forward to this long-awaited day in court and his opportunity to vindicate himself and his name,” said Mr. Tanaka’s lawyer, Glenn C. Colton.The 12-count indictment alleges conspiracy to commit securities fraud, investment adviser fraud, mail fraud, wire fraud and money laundering. The combined prison terms would amount to more than 150 years.
In interviews several days before the trial, Mr. Vilar said a dispute with a client was trumped up into a criminal matter. He denounced prosecutors for saying early during the highly publicized case that $5 million in allegedly stolen money was the “tip of the iceberg.” “You know what’s missing?” he said. “Zero. The government is saying, ‘None of your clients lost a penny, and you’ve got to go to jail for the rest of your life.’ ”Mr. Vilar blamed his high-profile philanthropy for the prosecution. “If I had been another guy who said, ‘Gee, put another Picasso on the wall,’ they probably wouldn’t have bothered me,” he said. The United States attorney’s office declined to comment, but government documents allege $17 million has gone missing.Mr. Vilar also finds it painful, he said, that the board members and cultural officials who benefited from his patronage have abandoned him. “The notion of presumed innocence doesn’t exist,” he added. “I’m disappointed to say that 99-point-X percent of people I knew haven’t had the decency to pick up the telephone and say anything, like, ‘My prayers are with you.’ ” Even members of his small family have turned their backs on him, Mr. Vilar said. He said he spends most of his time alone in his 25th-floor apartment overlooking the East River and the United Nations, surrounded by the trappings of a cultural life. Legal documents and binders covering glass tables and the floor are the anomaly in his 5,500-square-foot living room, with its gold brocade drapes, marble floor, paintings and sculptures, and well-tuned Steinway baby grand piano. A larger-than-life-size bronze statue of the child Mozart has pride of place. A reproduction of the Met chandelier hangs from the ceiling. A framed newspaper photograph showing Mr. Vilar in his old seat at the Met, A-101, sits on a side table. Recordings of the tenors Rolando Villazón and Fritz Wunderlich lie nestled in a CD player tray. His life is a far cry from what it was in the mid-1990s, when he rode the market boom, especially in technology stocks. His funds soared in value, and the profits rolled in. Mr. Vilar’s investment firm was managing $9 billion, and his wealth at one point was valued at a near $1 billion.
“We were the first investors in probably 15 household tech companies that made it,” he said.As his fortune grew, Mr. Vilar embarked on a giving spree, pledging some $200 million in all to arts and other institutions. He was not shy about announcing his largess, often demanding naming rights for the projects he financed, even suggesting that he be recognized onstage at the Met. Some acquaintances cited a craving for attention and legitimacy; Mr. Vilar said he was trying to set an example for potential donors.

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