Scamfluencers - Studio 54: Tax Evasion! At the Disco | 189

Episode Date: November 24, 2025

In the 1970s, Studio 54 stood as the ultimate temple of disco, decadence, and hedonism. Lifelong friends and business partners Steve Rubell and Ian Schrager curated a coveted guest list, deciding who slipped past the velvet rope into a celebrity-studded playground that attracted everyone from Cher to Truman Capote to Imelda Marcos. But while Steve and Ian were meticulous about crafting the perfect mix of the rich, famous and beautiful, they were far less disciplined with their finances. Skimming cash became routine – and a series of missteps eventually brought their seemingly neverending party crashing down.Be the first to know about Wondery’s newest podcasts, curated recommendations, and more! Sign up now at https://wondery.fm/wonderynewsletterListen to Scamfluencers on the Wondery App or wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen early and ad-free on Wondery+. Join Wondery+ in the Wondery App, Apple Podcasts or Spotify. Start your free trial by visiting wondery.com/links/scamfluencers/ now.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Hey, scam influencers listeners. If you're as hooked on these jaw-dropping schemes as we are, you'll love Wondry Plus. Think of it as you're all access past the world of scams. Add free episodes, early access, and exclusive deep dives that uncover even more shocking details. Don't just listen. Immerse yourself in the chaos with Wondry Plus. Sarah, would you call yourself a club bunny? Like, what's your idea of the perfect night out? I mean, come on, you know me. I'm not a club bunny. I don't think I've ever been to a club. It's called Growing Up Strict. But I do love a night out solely for people watching.

Like, I love going to something where there's a lot of different people around that I don't know. As long as there's free food, I'm really happy. Give me a salmon tartar on a little toastata, and I'm happy. Okay, wow, you're going really fancy at the club. They don't feed you at the club? They generally don't feed you at the club. Okay, well, that's what if you get hungry, then, you know, it's a whole other thing.

The clubs, I want to go to have food. I'm in the VIP section. I'm sitting down. I'm overlooking everyone and someone's bringing me food. And you're eating chicken nuggets. Yes. Yeah. And I get to just look at people.

Okay, I actually love your idea of a club, and I do think we should talk angel investors. But, Sarah, today, I need you to wear your shiniest sequin jumpsuit and your most perilously high platform heels for the story I'm going to tell you. All about Studio 54, how the party started, and how it came to a screeching, scammy halt. It's mid-December, 1978 in New York City. And Ian Schrager is on his way to work. Ian is 32 years old, tall and stoic, with curly brown hair. He kind of looks like Paul Simon or a young Michael Kane. Here, take a look.

Yeah, I totally see it. He has that 70s look. He's wearing the little turtleneck with the blazer. His hair is long. He looks dapper. You know, he looks like he's in boogie nights or something. while Ian's wearing a button-down shirt and carrying a briefcase full of books,

financial records, and documents. On the surface, you're right, he looks like any other 70s New York businessman. But his office is anything but typical. Ian is one of the co-owners of Studio 54, the hottest discotheque in New York City. It's a very exclusive club. Every night, thousands of people from all over the world

line up outside, hoping to get in and party with celebrities like Cher, Liza Minnelli and Andy Warhol. It's the place to be right now. Apparently, some people are so desperate to get in, they buy maps that claim to show how to sneak into the club through the subway system. And once you're there,

well, here's how one ITN reporter set the scene. Piercing lights, a cascade and special effects. Supple-bodied young waiters dressed in nothing but shorts. Yes, this is cultural iconography at this point. You know, you think Studio 54, and that's exactly what you see. It's like flashing lights, disco vibe, people dancing. People are still doing Studio 54 themed parties today, right? Yeah, Studio 54 is a paradise for the beautiful, the fashionable, and the famous.

Which makes Ian and his business partner, Steve Rubel, two of the most powerful men in Manhattan. But as Ian rounds the corner of 54th and 8th, he notices something is off. There's a lot of commotion on the block. That's not unusual for Studio 54, but it's 9 in the morning, which is way too early for anyone to be lining up. Ian approaches the door and tries to unlock it, but it won't open. He jiggles his key in the lock, but the door still won't budge. Finally, it swings open, and standing on the other side is a federal marshal.

Studio 54 is being raided by the IRS under suspicion of tax-referral. fraud. Ian steps inside and sets his briefcase on the ground. And that's when he realizes he's cooked, because inside that case, along with his books and documents, are five one-ounce bags of cocaine. The Fed sees the drugs and arrest him. But the Coke isn't even the most damning thing they find, because the feds also sees Ian's papers, papers that might contain evidence of the tax fraud the agents were looking for. Steve and Ian have been doing everything necessary to keep the party alive. But when the full scale of their crimes comes to light,

it'll spell the end of Studio 54 and the death of disco itself. From Wondery, I'm Sachi Cole. And I'm Sarah Hagey, and this is scamplencers. Come and give me your attention, I won't ever learn my lesson, turn my speaker to 11, I'll feel like, Studio 54 had it all, disco, drugs, and decadence.

It was a perfect symbol of the 1970s, and behind it all were two best friends, Ian Schrager and Steve Rubell. Together, they built the ultimate party playground. At a time when cocaine flowed freely, birth control had just changed the rules, and AIDS was still unknown. But Steve and Ian weren't just liberated at the club. They were liberated in their finances, too. And after reaching the peak of the global nightclub scene, their seemingly never-ending party will end in handcuffs instead of confetti.

This is Studio 54 Tax Evasion at the disco. It's 1964 and 21-year-old Steve Rubel is on campus at Syracuse University, handing out tickets to a football game. Steve's just 5'5 and 120 pounds, but he's got a big personality. He has a bright, goofy smile, a floppy head of hair, and he really knows how to schmooze. He helped a friend get elected student body president,

and that friend returned the favor by putting Steve in charge of seating at football games. So, if you want a good seat, you got to talk to Steve. This is just one of the ways Steve runs the school's social scene. Here's how one of Steve's friends described him in the A&E documentary, Studio 54. If you wanted to meet a certain girl, you saw Steve Rubel. If you needed to know what courses to take, you saw Steve Rubel.

He knew everybody at Syracuse University. It's a sharp contrast to his childhood, where young Steve spent a lot of time on the outside looking in. He grew up in a working-class Jewish family in Brooklyn. His dad was a mailman and a competitive tennis player, but couldn't afford to travel enough to go pro. Instead, he started teaching the game on the side. And as a kid, Steve played tennis, but he never quite fit in with the waspy country club types. Tennis gave Steve a front row seat to a different kind of life,

one with estates, country clubs, and wealth. Now he's at Syracuse on a partial tennis scholarship, hoping that a higher education will help him attain this kind of life for himself. He's well on his way. In addition to being in charge of football seating, he's also the captain of the tennis team, and he's in a fraternity. Steve's comfortable being the big man on campus,

which makes him an unlikely match with one of his close friends, Ian Schrager. Ian's a freshman economics major. He's the total opposite of Steve, quiet and introverted. The two of them met well in the same fraternity, but the details are a little fuzzy. In one version, the two met because they were dating the same girl.

In another version, Ian says Steve saw him refusing to give up in a wrestling match against a way bigger guy in their dorm. Either way, they become fast friends. Despite their differences, they're both working-class Jewish kids from Brooklyn who dream of moving up in the world. And together, they're going to do just that by reinventing the party. It's the summer of 1969, and Ian's taking a break from law school to party at Woodstock.

We don't know exactly what he gets up to at the festival, but let's imagine him lighting a joint as Jefferson Airways. Airplane takes the stage. Whatever he does, Ian later describes Woodstock as one of the most important events of his life. It sticks with him, even after he goes back to studying law at St. John's University in Queens. He's amazed that 400,000 people could come together without laws or police, and somehow everyone got along. Woodstock is still in the back of Ian's mind several years later when, in the mid-70s, he reunites with his old pal Steve. Steve spent the last few years running a chain of steakhouses called Steakloft.

But he expanded the business too quickly, and now he's in debt. Ian steps in as a lawyer and helps him keep the creditors at bay. In the process, they realize they make good business partners. So they decide to take on a new industry. Nightclubs. They planned parties in bar mitzvahs back in college, but now they have bigger ambitions. Disco tax are on the rise, especially with the queer community. In fact, Steve is a free.

patron. And while he never publicly identifies as gay, it eventually becomes an open secret, and he is a regular at all the best discos in town. Ian loves the idea of owning a disco for other reasons. To him, it feels like a chance to recreate the energy he experienced at Woodstock. And he might already have an inn with the business. His dad was an associate of the famous mobster Meyer Lansky, who was a notorious loan shark. When Ian's father died, his criminal enterprise was taken over by three brothers, one of whom, Sam Jacobson, actually moved in with Ian's mom, which kind of makes him Ian's stepdad. This connection turns out to be an important one, because throughout the 60s and 70s, New York's gay clubs are largely backed by the mob.

They are cash-heavy businesses, which make them perfect for money laundering, tax evasion, and other types of organized crime. Wow, I had no idea. I do think that makes a lot of sense. It's not like a gay club can function totally legally and the mob can provide a level of protection for a price. I don't think they really, they care who their clients are in that sense. Well, I think that's beautiful, Sarah. In December 1975, Steve and Ian opened their first New York nightclub, the Enchanted Garden.

It's located in the clubhouse of a golf course so deep in Queens, it's almost Long Island. It costs them $27,000 to open, but no one's quite sure of where the money comes from. They operate the club under the company name Stakeloft of Douglaston, so it's possible Steve floated money from his other business. But it's also possible that Ian went to Sam and used his family mob connections. Either way, they are skirting the law from day one. New York City has a cabaret law, which bans singing and dancing at establishments

that serve food and drink without a special cabaret license. But getting a license takes forever, and it costs money. Plus, the law is only sporadically enforced. Most club owners don't bother trying, and neither do Ian and Steve. Instead, they just get a basic restaurant permit and start throwing parties. And these parties are legendary. There's an island of Paradise Night with fire dancers, palm trees, and a 70-pound pig roasting on a spit.

And an Arabian Nights-themed party, complete with real camels and a snake charmer. The events draw over 2,000 people to the club every weekend. That is so many people, especially in a city like New York, where there are a million things happening every single night, every single weekend. Yeah, well, it also stirs up a lot of anger from the neighbors. Noise and property damage complaints start piling up, and soon the city starts looking into the club. Since it's on a municipal golf course, the Parks Department steps in.

And in September of 1976, they order Steve and Ian to stop operating in a legal club. They're free to run Enchanted Garden as a restaurant, but they can't keep throwing wild parties without a cabaret permit. But instead of complying, Ian and Steve tell the city to shove it. They get their lawyer to draw things out in court, which allows the Enchanted Garden to keep operating. Things seem calm for a while, but a few weeks later,

the club's neighbors take matters into their own hands. Dozens of community members, including a state senator, block the entrance and try to drive away patrons. If the city can't shut them down, the locals will. Steve and Ian are in for a long fight, but their attention is already wandering. Sure, they've conquered Queens, but it's not enough.

Now they're setting their sights on bigger names and more money in the bright lights of Manhattan. It's February 1977, about a year after Steve and Ian opened Enchanted Garden. They've spent the last few months touring old churches and firehouses, trying to find a location for a nightclub in Manhattan. But nothing seems right until they hear about a building on West 54th Street. One of their business acquaintances was planning to open his own nightclub there, but his backers fell through.

Now the space is up for grabs. The building has a pretty cool history. It was originally constructed as an opera house in 1927. For a while, it was the CBS TV studio where they taped What's My Line, and the Jack Benny show. But the neighborhood is in rough shape now. There's a lot of crime in the area, including rampant drug use and frequent muggings.

But when Steve and Ian passed through the doors, it feels like they've stepped into a different world. The building is massive. 20,000 square feet with an 85-foot ceiling and a grand lobby with original crown molding. Ian and Steve agree. They love it. They pay their acquaintance a finder's fee

and bring in a third partner. another Brooklyn guy named Jack Duchet. Jack is 36 years old, with dark hair and a cool laid-back style. He owns a successful chain of discount stores. And he actually met Steve and Ian when he hosted his son's bar mitzvah at Enchanted Garden. I feel like everything is really falling into place for these guys in a way that is, you know, I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop here. Yeah, well, it's a show called Scamplins or Sarah, so it's coming.

Well, Jack, Steve, and Ian are equal partners in the company they form to lease the building. But there are some, let's say, discrepancies around the financing. Some sources say that Jack puts up anywhere from $400,000 to $700,000 in cash to make the club happen. Other sources say the three of them contributed $130,000 each. However, it went down, they pulled together enough money and get to work. And right away, everyone is under a lot of stress. Because for whatever reason, they want to open in just six weeks. Of course, Jack, Ian, and Steve want to hire the best nightclub people in town.

But their competitors have told everyone not to work with them. We don't know if this was an intimidation tactic, but either way, they have to pivot. So if they can't hire a nightclub people, then they'll hire a theater people. And this turned out to be a perfect fit. After all, the space used to be a theater. They keep the lighting rigs that were already installed and hire the lighting designers from Bob Fosse's steamy new musical, Chicago. They also keep the balcony seating for people who just want to watch the festivities from above.

There's still some challenges. For example, the sloped floor is bad for dancing, so they have to level it out. But they're able to make all of this construction happen quickly, without permits or unions. They also move ahead without a liquor license. It might be because it can take months to get approval for one, but it could be because around this time, the New York State Liquor Authority has a reputation for denying liquor licenses to gay clubs,

and Steve explicitly wants Studio 54 to be gay-friendly. Either way, they find a workaround. They apply for a series of one-day catering permits, which allows them to serve alcohol, even though they're not really a catering company. It's clever, but also shady. These are the kinds of business practices you normally want to keep hidden.

But Steve, Ian, and Jack do not care. They want Studio 54 to be huge, so they sprint toward opening day with as much fanfare as possible. As far as Steve and Ian are concerned, more is more, and they're about to get everything they can handle. It's the night of April 26, 1977, moments before the grand opening of Studio 54. The DJ runs a sound check as the bartenders finish prepping their stage. Steve, Ian, and Jack are buzzing with anticipation.

They've poured a lot of money into the business already. But they're spending an additional fortune on opening night. It's maybe not the $1.1 million reported in the New York Daily News, but they are going all out this evening. Steve has been boasting that there will be Hollywood-level special effects, like a snowstorm and a tornado on the dance floor. And they sent out thousands of elaborate invitations, 16 by 20 full-color posters with the Studio 54 logo.

Here, take a look. Yeah, you know, it's a photo of Steve, and he's holding a poster of the iconic Studio 54 logo that we all know. It's just like one of those things that's so everywhere that you're not even thinking twice about it. It is crazy looking at this photo, and regardless of what happens in this episode that I don't know yet,

they still did that. And he's holding this not knowing what the future. will hold, which I always think is very cool. Yes, it is iconic, iconic disco. And Steve and Ian have done a great job creating buzz, maybe too good. As the crew puts the finishing touches on everything, Steve hears banging on the door. When he runs outside, there's a sea of people spilling out onto 54th Street, all clamoring to get into the club.

Some are waving invitations, demanding entry. A few even throw bottles. Amid the chaos, Steve rushes over to tell the bouncers that it's time to open up. Immediately, the club is packed, and people are having the night of their lives. They drink, snort cocaine, and allegedly have sex on the theater balcony. Gay people, straight people, trans people, and drag queens all take to the dance floor, all somewhere between undressed and dressed to the nines. It's exactly what Steve imagined.

Sarah, can you read this quote from Steve? Yes. He says, if it gets too straight, then there's not enough energy in the room. If it gets too gay, then there's no glamour. We want it to be bisexual. Very, very, very bisexual. You know, I think he's talking about a balance. To me, I understand what he's saying. It's like he wants it to be for everyone but weird enough, but fun enough, but chic enough. And I guess to get that, you do have to have a proper, balance of sexuality. I mean, Sarah, this is what we call gay math. Yeah, exactly. It's the only math you'll ever need. This is gay math.

It's true. Well, the opening night party is teeming with celebrities like Cher, J.FK Jr., Henry Winkler, and Warren Beatty, along with about 4,000 other people. The party goes until 6 a.m. And the next morning, Studio 54 is on the front page of the New York Post. They're a hit. Until the following night, when the vibes are, are a little off.

Only about 400 people show up for night two, about 10% of the opening night crowd. The dance floor looks pathetically empty, and it gets even worse the rest of the week. Sometimes they close early with only 200 people inside. They need to turn things around fast. So Steve goes back to what's worked before,

over-the-top theme parties. On May 2nd, less than a week after opening night, Studio 54 throws a birthday party for Bianca Jagger, organized by her friend, fashion designer Halston. Steve hires a publicist to make sure the celebrity list is stacked and the press is in attendance. And they're not disappointed. Bianca rides through the club on a white horse

led by a naked man covered in gold glitter. I like that we got to the Bianca Jagger portion of this because she was a bit of a mainstay there, if I remember correctly. She was. And suddenly Sarah, Studio 54 is back. Steve is thrilled.

He loves being in charge of the velvet rope, the same way he loved deciding who got to sit where at college football games. Unsurprisingly, Steve's pretty picky. As Studio 54 ramps up, he enforces strict standards. For example, anyone who shows up in polyester is immediately denied entry,

because the fabric will melt under the lights. Here's Steve in an encounter filmed by the British broadcaster ITN. Oh, you're not shaved. There's no way in a million years you're going to get in. It doesn't matter if you're not shaving. Listen, just go home. Yeah, I mean, it's genius to create like this level of exclusivity

and like an arbitrary set of rules for who gets in and who doesn't. That's what gets people wanting to go there. Well, Steve's standards do occasionally backfire. One time, he unknowingly rejects the Saudi prince, which prompts an angry call from the country's embassy. When Steve's not manning the velvet rope, He's hyping up the crowd. Sometimes he runs around the club handing out quailudes and cocaine from his giant puffer coat.

Meanwhile, Ian hangs out in the back office, taking care of the boring stuff, like riding off the drugs as a business expense. I mean, you know, technically, they're not a business expense. Their first month is a roller coaster. But by the end, the place is packed every night. And between the cover fee and the price of drinks, They're raking in thousands upon thousands of dollars in cash every night. And the high, both literal and figurative, is intoxicating.

Steve and Ian are flying, and they'll do whatever it takes to keep this feeling going, even if it means breaking a few more laws along the way. It's the end of May 1977, about a month after Studio 54's opening. Michael Roth is at a party, but it's definitely not at Studio 54. Michael's a buttoned-up guy with wavy hair and half-rimmed glasses, and today he's attending a private event at a Manhattan restaurant. Michael comes from wealth and used to be a partner at a prestigious law firm, but a few years ago he gave up his salary to become chairman of the New York State Liquor Authority.

He has political ambitions and a civil servant gig like that. This probably looks good on the resume. Now, his job is mediating disputes over who gets liquor licenses in the city. And earlier this week, his agency cut off the fraudulent one-day catering permit Studio 54 has been using to sell booze. So, when Michael hears at this party that they're still serving alcohol, he's appalled. Steve and Ian aren't new to the clubbing business, so he knows they're deliberately flouting the law. Michael immediately takes action.

He hops in his car, drives to the nearest police station to pick up a plain clothes officer, and arrives at Studio 54 at about 1 a.m. There's a line, but the cop flashes his badge and the bouncer lets them in. Once he's inside, Michael is hit with sensory overload. The music is loud, and the strobe lights make him feel like he's moving in slow motion

as he pushes his way through the crowd. When he finally makes it to the bar, he orders a scotch on the rocks. The bartender charges Michael $2.50, and hands him a drink. It's all the evidence he needs to shut the place down. But just to be safe, he finds a second bartender and orders another drink. And then he's like, you know what, I'll find a third bartender. Let me order another one. It's a good party. Yeah, I mean, it must suck when you're kind of enjoying the party, but your job is to shut it down. Well, the cop leaves to go get

back up, and soon enough, half a dozen police officers storm the club. The music shuts off, the house lights turn on and everyone leaves. Everyone, except for Ian, Steve, and two bartenders who all get arrested. Michael is satisfied, at first. But his victory doesn't last. Ian and Steve are released after just a few hours. And the next night, the club draws about 600 people, even without liquor. Really, this might be the biggest scam of all, because Studio 54 is charging an $8 cover, which is more than $40 in today's money. Employees at the club hand out a flyer, explaining the situation. Sarah, can you read it? Yes, it says, Welcome and thank you for joining us this evening. Due to an unfortunate misunderstanding,

we are unable to serve alcoholic beverages tonight. However, we have a variety of soft drinks and juices, and you are welcome to drink as much as you like at no charge. Studio 54 will remain open. We thank you for helping make it the success that it is. That is not encouraging for people who are at the club. I'll say. I mean, free juice sounds great for someone like me, but it's New York City. There are a million other places they can go. But here's the thing, Sarah. Even without the booze, people are still having a great time. One reporter writes that spending three hours at Studio 54 made her feel more stone than she had ever been in her life. And for people who do want more than a natural high, it seems like quailudes and cocaine are everywhere.

In fact, every night, the club lowers a giant set piece depicting a man on the moon starting Coke off of a spoon. After that, they rained fake snow all over the dance floor. Right, I forgot this is before people knew how bad things were. No, it's when drugs were pure and good. We didn't have fentanyl. We could have fun, Sarah. We used to be a country. Okay, well, you're like skipping, like, decades of information here.

Sure, sure, sure. Yeah, I mean, it's a carefree time when they're like, wow, I just snort this thing and it makes me feel great. Nothing bad can happen from that. Nope. And no wars were ever started. Well, still, Steve and Ian apply for the license they should have had from the start. So Michael's agency launches an investigation into whether or not they should grant one. During this process, they uncover Ian's possible mob ties.

When questioned about his relationship with Sam Jacobson, his alleged mafioso stepdad, Ian says that he has, quote, no contact with him and no personal knowledge whatsoever about him or his activities. After about three months, the state liquor authority votes three to two to reject Studio 54's application because of their, quote, blatant disregard of state liquor laws. But about a month and a half after that, Michael learns that Steve and Ian appealed a decision to a judge and won. They got their license. They submitted a list of more than 50 celebrities who regularly visited the club and several submitted affidavits in support, including Calvin Klein, Andy Warhol, and a member of the city council.

Michael is pissed. In an interview with The New York Times, he publicly accuses the judge of basically being starstruck. Michael is frustrated, but his defeat is only going to embold in Steve and Ian. And just like all the cocaine flowing around the dance floor, their success is about to go straight to their heads. By November 1977, Steve's on top of the world. Studio 54 has only been open for seven months. And now, he isn't just controlling who gets into the club. He is the club.

He hobnobbs with Elton John, Michael Jackson, Diana Ross, Vera Fawcett. He capitalizes on the success of Bianca Jagger's party, and over the next year, they turn Studio 54 into the go-to destination for celebrity birthdays. Elizabeth Taylor's party features a performance by the Rockets, and at Andy Warhol's birthday, Steve dumps $801 bills over his head, which he later records as a business expense. For Dolly Parton's birthday,

they decorate the club like a farm, complete with hay bales and real cows. Steve's charm and his flair for theatrics make him a great interview. He's all over newspapers and TV, even doing joint interviews with the stars themselves. like this one with Studio 54 regular, Michael Jackson, talking about what makes the play so great.

One night Michael was here and Liza were here, and they were dancing. There was no photography. They didn't come here. And they were just dancing. It was like a treat that people would have paid $100 a ticket for, I think. If they paid just to watch, we were all dancing together, right? And nobody cared.

And nobody, they just come here and have a good time, you know. This is exactly what he wanted was to rub shoulders with famous people and kind of be the one controlling access. and his place being the spot. And this is really like a hallmark of the past, no phones, no cameras, like no social media. That's just one of the things people bring up when they talk about Studio 54 is that,

oh yeah, all these people were able to like party with celebrities and it wasn't a big deal kind of thing. Yeah, and I mean, the fame is nice. But Steve and his partners are also getting really rich. They've started selling annual memberships that cost around $1,500. or roughly $800 in today's money. Also, the club charges a cover fee ranging from $7 to $10.

They're at max capacity of about 2,000 people almost every evening, which means each night they're estimated to make around $24,000 or roughly $180,000 in today's money, plus whatever they rake in on drinks. That's a ton of cash. And at some point, they start skimming off the top, taking money directly without reporting it to the IRS. It's not clear when they started doing this or who the ringleader was.

Till this day, Ian is tight-lipped about it, but we do know what their ledger looks like. Every night, someone records the money in five columns. There's a column for Ian, a column for Steve, and a column for Jack. Then there's a fourth column that lists the take for the night and a fifth column that's labeled S-K or skim. Every night, whoever is in charge of the books records exactly how much money the business

isn't reporting to the IRS. Okay. It's always funny when there's so much written detail for the scam where it's like, okay, and this is the column for skimming. Like, okay, I guess I just really thought

no one would figure it out. Yeah, it's a little loony tunes. And also cartoonish is that the cooked books are hidden in a drop ceiling in the office, along with garbage bags full of cash. Steve also stashes almost not. $900,000 and $5 and $10 bills behind bookcases in his apartment. And it is a very nice apartment.

The bathroom is covered in gold foil, and both the floor and the ceiling in the kitchen are mirrored. Steve is on top of the world, which might explain why he starts getting a little too comfortable with the press. In a November 1977 interview with New York Magazine, Steve boasts, quote, the profits are astronomical. Only the mafia does it better.

He also says, quote, it's a cash business and you have to worry about the IRS. I don't want them to know everything. And you might think that this would be a big red flag for the IRS. But it's not Steve's big mouth that's going to be a problem. It's his own employees. It's 1978 and a man named Peter Suddler is entering the Federal Reserve Building on Wall Street.

Peter's an assistant U.S. attorney and with his short brown hair and no-nonsense expression, he looks the part. Today, he's about to have the perfect target handed to him, Studio 54. Peter is meeting with a guy named Donald Moon. With his long, blonde hair and conventional good looks, it's not surprising that Donald once worked at Studio 54, but he got fired, and now he's pissed. In a fit of rage, he contacted the IRS about the skimming operation,

and now he has agreed to talk to Peter. It might have been inevitable that Studio 54 would come under federal scrutiny, but Donald really accelerates this process and provides more than enough information for Peter to get a search warrant. So, later that year, on December 14, 1978, Peter brings more than 30 agents to raid Studio 54. This is when Ian shows up and gets caught red-handed with both cocaine and damning financial records.

Peter is actually pretty surprised by this. Years later, he says it was incredible. incredibly stupid of Ian to walk in during a raid. I mean, listen, it's obvious he didn't know he was getting raided or had no idea what was going on. But if you were involved in that much illegal activity, you kind of act like you're always going to be raided. I just feel like there should have been more safeguards for what these people were doing in their own world, you know? Yeah, they should have been more careful, that's for sure. Once they've taken Ian's belongings, Peter and his team make their way to the basement.

where they find the garbage bags full of money hidden in the ceiling. And when they order the club manager to open the safe, they find the financial records, along with 300 quailutes. Remember how Ian told the state liquor authority that he didn't have a relationship with Sam Jacobson, that mob guy who moved in with his mom? Well, Peter's team finds an accordion folder labeled Sam Jacobson personal. The folder contains a promissory note

and a number of legal pads with Sam's name on them. The feds also find a payment sheet literally labeled Steve Rubell Sam Jacobson with figures that run to more than $22,000. I mean, hey, just because it says his name everywhere doesn't mean it's linked to him, right? One could hope. Well, at least there's one silver lining for the Studio 54 boys. The feds field test Ian's cocaine, and the results are off the charts.

Studio 54 is doling out good shit to their celebrity guests. Based on the results of the drug test, Ian gets arrested on a charge of possessing cocaine with intent to distribute. When they go to apprehend Steve, he's in his Mercedes, and officers find a hundred grand in the trunk. Once the initial searches are done, Peter looks through the documents he seized, and he's shocked by what he reads. Ian and Steve aren't just keeping meticulous records of the taxes they're avoiding. they're withholding 40 to 60% of their income. Peters handled a lot of these cases, and he's amazed at the audacity required to skim this much.

Studio 54 has been open for less than two years, and it seems like the party's already ending. But Steve and Ian aren't ready to leave the dance floor just yet, so they're about to bring in someone even more dangerous than the mob. Their lawyer. A few hours after the raid, a man named Roy Cohn gets a call from Ian. Sarah, have you ever heard of Roy Cone?

Yes, he is the guy who made Donald Trump, right? And he's been in an episode. Roy is on our scamflincer's bingo board. That's very true. He's a skinny, five-foot-eight lawyer with a receding hairline in a deep side part. He prosecuted the Rosenbergs, an American couple who received the death penalty

for espionage during the Cold War. He was also Senator Joseph McCarthy chief counsel during the Red Scare, and now he's a general fixer for some mob guys. Later, you're right. He will go on to represent and mentor Donald Trump. Roy has been Steve and Ian's legal counsel since their enchanted garden days. It's a bit of an odd fit. Studio 54 is pretty flamboyant, and Roy is an arch-conservative, who is deeply in the closet. You know how when the RNC is in town, grinder usage goes up? Well, this picture of Roy at Studio 54 is kind of like the 19th.

1970s version of that. Okay, this is a photo of Roy in a tuxedo, and he has a crazy headdress thing on, and beside him is a guy dressed like a gay gladiator. And Roy is trying not to smile, but you could tell, you see it in his eyes, this man is happy. Yeah, yeah. Imagine what kind of world we would live in if Roy Cohn had been free, you know? I don't think it would have made him. him better. You're probably right. Well, when Roy learns that Ian's been arrested, he heads down to the jail and gets Ian released on a $50,000 bond. And while Roy is partly responsible for how much Steve and Ian have been able to get away with, what he does next makes things way worse. He tells

his clients to go down to the club and mess everything up to make it look like the feds ransack the place. They follow his advice and tamper with the crime scene. And Steve isn't making things better. Later that night, Roy and Steve appear at a press conference outside Studio 54, where Steve is maybe a little too confident. Roy watches his client crack a joke that the raid was the first time he had trouble getting into the club. You know, these guys are so arrogant, and I feel like them being near celebrities has really gotten to their head at this point

because, like, this is a big deal, and they're making this little joke, as funny as it is, as a joke. It's a little bold, and it's not going to get people on your side. Well, eventually, Roy finds himself as one of the 37 attorneys on Studio 54's legal team, which also includes a former Watergate attorney. We don't know how Steve and Ian assemble this team, but it's possible they rely on Roy's connections. Regardless, they need all the help they can get. On June 28, 1979, a grand jury indicts them on 12 counts, including tax evasion, fraud, and obstruction of justice. Unsurprisingly, tampering with the crime scene totally backfired on them. And the evidence continues to mount against Steve and Ian.

A week before the indictment, their third partner, Jack, secretly pleaded guilty in a closed-door session and is allegedly cooperating with the prosecution. Roy starts flailing and tries another trick. He's heard that President Jimmy Carter's chief of staff visited the club and used cocaine. So he records a statement from the dealer who allegedly provided the drugs and submits the tape to the FBI. He's hoping Steve will be able to get immunity in exchange for testifying against a juicier political target.

You think he would have something worse on someone outside of drug use, which I'm sure many people in the government casually were doing at the time? Yeah, these are not good plans. And Roy's Hail Mary does not land. The investigation into the president's chief of staff goes nowhere. And the special counsel even tells the press that Roy was trying to scam him. Meanwhile, Steve and Ian move into damage control mode. They announce a million-dollar renovation of Studio 54 to show the public that everything's fine.

They install a moving bridge that floats over the dance floor, inspired by the musical Sweeney Todd, and cover the balcony in rubber so it's easier to wash down at the end of the night. In November in 1979, about a year after the IRS raid, Steve and Ian plead guilty to two counts of tax evasion and admit to defrauding the government out of more than $400,000 in taxes. And a few months later, on January 18, 1980,

Roy stands next to his clients during their sentencing hearing and makes a plea to the judge. He says they paid back 95% of the money they owe and points out that Steve teaches tennis to underprivileged kids. But the judge isn't moved. He says the crime is, quote, one of tremendous arrogance. Steve and Ian are sentenced to three and a half years in prison, along with a 23,000. thousand dollar fine. They're about to trade cash bars for metal bars, but not even prison will stop them from doing the thing they love most, partying in style. I feel like a legend. February 3rd, 1980 is Steve and Ian's last day as Freeman. So naturally,

they throw a huge going-away party for themselves at the club called The End of Modern Day Gamora. Among the 3,000 attendees are Richard Gear, Reggie Jackson, Diana Ross, and Liza Minnelli, who both sing for them. Ian causes mayhem when he announces their serving alcohol free of charge. Steve wears a fedora and blasts Frank Sinatra's My Way.

Here's a picture of him from that night. He is beaming. God knows what he's on. He's wrapped in some sort of fur, and he is wearing a fedora. Yeah, this guy's living. Yeah. He's living. He's having his last day on earth.

Yeah, he really is. Because the next morning, Steve and Ian face their harsh new reality and surrender to the authorities. But Ian is still a savvy businessman. He locates the scariest guy in prison and offers him a deal. He and Steve will send money to his wife on the outside if he protects them on the inside. Meanwhile, Studio 54 is on its last legs. Just two and a half years after opening, the club loses its liquor license for good.

There's really no coming back from that, so Steve and Ian decide to sell while they're still behind bars. A restaurateur buys the club for $5 million, and just like that, it's the end of an era. While in prison, Steve and Ian cooperate with a larger federal investigation into tax fraud among other nightclub owners. They rat on four other people who have,

eventually plead guilty to their own tax evasion charges. In exchange, Steve and Ian only served 20 months of their three-and-a-half-year sentences. When Steve and Ian get out of jail in 1981, they spend two months finishing out their sentences in a halfway house. They may be back in New York City, but the city they knew and loved is unrecognizable. People hate disco now. There's an entire cultural movement called disco sucks. Part of it is the younger generation ragging on the older one, but it's also a backlash against the excess of the 70s. Between a recession and homophobic panic about AIDS, it's easy to blame disco for all of society's ills. It must be so crazy right before you're going to prison. You're on top of the world. Everyone loves disco.

Everyone loves this lifestyle. You go to prison for not that long and everything in your city has changed. It really is like a flip just kind of switched. Yeah, it's a totally different world. Steve and Ian are back on the outside, but this time they are starting from scratch. They owe more than a million dollars in legal fees, plus $750,000 in taxes. And while a lot of their old celebrity acquaintances want nothing to do with them, they still have a few loyal friends. Calvin Klein cuts Steve a blank check and tells him to fill in whatever amount he needs to get by. And Bianca Jagger buys him a watch.

Steve hits up the local clubs trying like hell to get back his social standing while Ian buries his head in books. He's taken a new interest in architecture. Neither men do well with idle time, so they begin flirting with the idea of a new venture, luxury hotels. But they won't be easy. The first time, Steve and Ian had tons of friends, easy access to money, and no criminal records.

And now they'll have to try something new, going straight. Throughout the early 1980s, Ian and Steve learn everything they can about the hotel business. They start pounding the pavement looking for investors. But every meeting ends in rejection. They can't even convince banks to give them a checking account. But then they get a lucky break. The man who bought Studio 54 also co-owns a CD hotel on Madison Avenue called The Executive. He and his partners agree to team up with Ian and Steve if they can come up with $6 million.

dollars. The pair have an acquaintance look over the deal and he discovers that it includes a subordination clause. This means that any bank that loans money to Steve and Ian would get paid back before the sellers do. Essentially, this means that they can use a building they don't own yet as collateral. And if the hotel tanks, the bank could take the property, allowing Steve and Ian to walk away. This clause enables them to secure a loan. And in 1984, just three years after getting out of prison, they open their first hotel. It's called The Morgans, and it totally revolutionizes the hospitality industry. Instead of the heavy drapes and oil paintings you'd find in most hotels, the rooms at the Morgans are sleek and modern, with chrome accents, black and white checkerboard

walls, and a more minimalist design. It's considered to be the first ever boutique hotel, and it's such a hit that Stephen Ian immediately make plans to open two more. In 1985, New York magazine runs a big story calling them the comeback kids. Here, take a look. This is really, really different from how they were marketing themselves before. The main image of the

story is them in suits, arms folded in front of expertly dressed hotel staff. It just looks so proper and like, trust me, please trust me. It's interesting to see this pivot and them hoping it'll work when their whole

thing was just being like really brash. Yeah, it's a very different vibe. Well, the two enjoy their second act for a few good years, but in 1989, Steve dies, likely due to complications from AIDS at just 45 years old. Ian is devastated by Steve's death. He later said it had a more profound impact on him than when his dad died because he was with Steve every single day.

Sarah, can you read what he told Hospitality Design Magazine years later about his late, great friend? Yeah, he said, We were best friends. We shared houses together. It was my first phone call in the morning and my last phone call at night. I never had another friend like Steve.

Oh, that's really sad. They were true friends. Yeah, they were. It was kind of beautiful. Well, Ian keeps working in hospitality, opening more successful boutique-style hotels in New York, Miami, and Los Angeles. He goes on to have five kids.

But over the decades, he still carries a lot of shamed. about how Studio 54 ended and almost never talks about it publicly. In 1998, the movie 54 comes out with Mike Meyer starring as Steve and Ian hates it. Though it's been 40 years since Studio 54 opened, it still has enormous cultural significance. And his grown kids are asking him about the club and all the tax evasion. So in 2017, Ian decides it's time to tell his side of the story. He works with documentarian Matt Tiernauer to make

a tell-all film about the nightclub, which comes out in 2018. While they work on the movie, President Obama formally pardons Ian. The documentary gets critical praise and Ian releases an art book with photos of the club and stories from people who worked there. Although Studio 54

only existed for 33 months, it left an impression that will last forever. And though Ian has finally shared his story, he won't be the last one. The upcoming season of American crime story is all about Studio 54. Sarah, I know the crimes that they did were bad, and I know not paying your taxes is bad, and I know not having a liquor license is bad.

But I love these guys, and I love their entrepreneurial spirit. And I love, I love how much they love cocaine. Okay, I'm not going to pretend I know a lot about the club scene back then. Sure. I don't know about it now. But I will say that I think this is, probably one of the most enduring legacies of, like, party culture

that anyone can really bring up. It seems like people are always trying to replicate that kind of carefree spirit that they had. It really was, like, a thing that people still talk about all the time. And, you know, in some ways, not in the best context. Like, I remember Drew Barrymore talking about how she was a child at Studio 54

and allowed to party there, you know? Like, that's messed up. Yeah. Obviously, they weren't operating above board from the get, but it's interesting to think about how because they were a queer club and a queer friendly club, the way they're sort of shoved into the shadows, they obviously need protection. I don't think this was a group of people that trusted the cops in the late 70s.

You know what I mean? Like, they immediately have to kind of operate like that. Even thinking about the liquor board, not giving them a liquor license, it's like, for what? Yeah, it's really interesting. And I feel like at that time, also, New York City was such a different place. By the time they got out of prison, it was like, you know, the real tough on crime, New York City's dangerous years.

I feel like it's something that only could have happened when they did it. This is one of those things where I'm like, these are the only people who could have done this. This is the only time it could have happened. To me, it just is so right place, right time period, right everything, like right level of celebrity of music. Like everything was just exactly. as it had to be for it to work for as short as it did. And it's crazy because also, like, you hear about Studio 54

and you think it's something that was years and years of enjoyment. Yeah. That it was such a short period of time and it still talked about says so much. Yeah, I feel like it's also, like, the last time a celebrity could do cocaine at a club and nobody had a way to take a photo and tell the rest of us. I think people are kind of wanting to go back to that surveillance-free period. because you do hear a lot of clubs, like, you know, especially in like Berlin and Europe,

like you're not allowed to even take your phone into a lot of clubs. That's true. I'm hearing more and more places trying to get people to be in the moment, like either covering their phone cameras with stickers or having to check their phones with their coats or something. So I think they were just kind of on to a type of freedom that the world harkens for in some way. The thing about Studio 54 is there's like two versions.

of it. One is like the celebrity version that people talk about. But the other is that it was like a safe queer club in New York in a tricky neighborhood and helped transform a neighborhood that nobody gave a shit about. Yeah. And there are lots of issues with that and, you know, obviously gentrification was large in Manhattan. But for a long time, it was like a very different kind of club and it was offering something that nobody else was. This was like a weird place where all these weirdos and creeps and geeks and nerds felt like safe to be weird. where you do have someone like Cher who's like hanging out with gypsies, trams, and thieves, you know, that's where she got it from. People who become famous, they do draw from regular people. I feel like we talked about this before.

Famous people love being around normal people and weirdos who have no money. They'll always find a way to do that and kind of leach off them. And I think, you know, there is a Studio 54 now. We just don't know about it. There are Studio 54s everywhere for those with eyes to see. Did hearing the story make you want to go to the club with me? Do you want to, like, wear a little bandit dress and some impossible heels and eat chicken nuggets at the club? I'll take you. No, I don't want to.

I want to be around people, but I don't want to be seen. I wish there was a way I could be, you know, a passive bystander kind of thing. But unfortunately, I'll wear a GoPro. I'll wear a GoPro to the club, and then you can just watch where I go. That's perfect. Sure, no one's ever done that. I could be like your sim and you tell me what to do. You can't be my sim, okay?

Why not? It's not that easy. You think it's just you put on a GoPro and that's it? No, it requires a lot. Well, then you'd yell at me to do stuff and I refuse to do it and then the baby's on fire. I've seen that game. This is Studio 54 Tax Evasion at the disco. I'm Sachi Cole.

And I'm Sarah Haggy. If you have a tip for us on a story that you think we should cover, please email us at Scam Fluencers at Wondry.com. We use many sources in our research. A few that were particularly helpful were Studio 54 directed by Matt Tiernauer, Anything Went, written by Brad Gouche for Vanity Fair, and The Last Party, written by Anthony Hating guest. Liz Galalas wrote this episode,

Additional writing by us, Sachi Pole, and Sarah Haggy. Eric Thurm is our story editor, fact-checking by Gabrielle Drolet. Sound design by James Morgan. Additional audio assistance provided by Augustine Lim. Our music supervisor is Scott Falaskas for Frieson Sing. Our managing producer is Desi Blaylock. Janine, Cornelow and Stephanie Jens are our development producers.

Our associate producer is Charlotte Miller. Our senior producers are Sarah Annie and Ginny Bloom. Our executive producers are Jenny Lauer Beckman and Marshall Louis. For Wondery. Loving scam influencers, get exclusive episodes and early access to new ones all ad-free on Wondry Plus. Join now in the Wendry app, Apple Podcasts, or Spotify. Before you go, help us out by taking a quick survey at Wendry.com slash survey.