Why I Created This Blog? And A Warning.

Jordan Belfort

In 2013, the movie The Wolf Of Wall Street was released. I was very disappointed at the way that Hollywood had glorified the fraud.  I am sure that many of you reading this have seen the movie. The story is about Jordan Belfort, the operator of a brokerage that specialized in penny stock promotion. The name of that firm was Oakmont Stratton, and they operated back in the 1990’s. During the 1990’s, there was no internet to market penny stocks, there were only boiler rooms. What is a boiler room? The name is actually a misnomer. In reality, its an office with lots of chairs and desks and phones, it looks just like any other office. The people working inside these “boiler rooms” looked just like you and me. There was no screaming or shouting, or boiling of any kind. The people that worked in these offices, selling these securities, were by no means exciting or particularly manipulative. They were average looking, average sounding, and of average intelligence people who would either make outbound phone calls to prospective investors or answer incoming phone calls from outbound mail campaigns. Somehow the name “boiler room” came about. The name “boiler room” sounds interesting, and it conjures lots of different imagery. Anyway, back to Jordan Belfort, Oakmont Stratton, and The Wolf Of Wall Street.

During the 1990’s, through Jordan’s boiler room operation operating out of Long Island, New York, his firm sold approximately 200 million dollars in basically worthless penny stock, pink sheet securities. The movie portrayed Jordan as some sort of Wall Street party boy that indulged in drugs, hard partying and prostitution. All of this is basically true, however Hollywood failed to mention that Jordan Belfort and Oakmont Stratton were just the tip of the ice berg. The biggest players still lay submerged, just below the surface, and some of these players operated out of Los Angeles and San Diego, Ca. I am one of those players.

Who is Emmett Moore, and what does this have to do with Jordan Belfort?

Emmett MooreMy name is Emmett Moore. In 1987, I was a 19 year old kid with no upper education, no money, and was working as a dishwasher at Sea World in San Diego Ca. This was my first job. My second job was as a cold caller for a stock broker named Robert Cohen. My job was to pick up a phone, dial a phone number from a list, and then read a script. The script was to congratulate the person on the other end of the phone, and tell them that they had been selected to participate in a private stock offering, and that this stock could make them very rich in a very short period of time. If the person sounded interested, I would proceed to ask a series of questions, if they still sounded interested, I would then transfer the call to Robert in hopes that the person would purchase $1,000 in penny stocks. Mostly folks said no, sometimes someone would say yes.

Working in a telephone sales office, making phone calls for 8 hours each day, and being rejected 99.9% of the time is probably the worst and most boring work that a person could endure. The pay was minimum wage, which I believe at that time was $4.35 per hour. I spent three years working for the firm Cohen and Jantzen, and during those first three years of non stop cold calling, I am quite sure that I annoyed a majority of the US population with my non stop pitches of penny stock companies. I knew these companies were bullshit, and that the investor had little to no chance of success. But at the time, I just didn’t give a damn, I was a young man alternating between sleeping on couches, and in cars. It was a miserable existence. However, little did I know that these three years of cold calling prospects would actually set the foundation what lay ahead.

The Irish Years

In 1990, another miserable coworker from Cohen and Jantzen approached me and said that he had been invited to a private dinner at an area hotel. The host was a guy named Nick, and that he wanted to speak as a group to as many of us low level cold callers as possible about a unique opportunity. I remember the evening of the presentation, I walked up toFerrari the conference area and parked outside was a bright red Ferrari Testarosa. People were milling about, staring wild eyed at this car. Within the group of people was a middle aged man, dressed in a Armani suit and wearing a Rolex watch. The suit had a bright silver, almost glowing sheen. The Rolex was a massive pure gold watch that was crusted with diamonds and rubies. I remember shaking NThe Watchick’s hand and staring at him. Success, wealth, and power just popped off in abundance from this man. Nick spoke with a heavy accent from Boston. He was not from around my area. But I wanted to be just like Nick.

During the dinner, Nick gave us a presentation about what he did, and what he was looking for from us. Nick explained that he worked with a group of successful businessman in Boston and that they were looking to open a sales office in San Diego, Ca. He explained that currently, he was raising money from private investors and that the money would be used to build out wireless television stations in markets around the United States. Investors would receive pre public, private shares of stock in each market. Once the minimum thresh hold of money was raised, then he would purchase a publicly listed company, AKA a penny stock company, and then reverse merger the stock with the pre public investors.

Nick showed us the life cycle of the client. The client would purchase a block of shares in a company that was not listed, nor had any assets or revenues. The client was purchasing projected revenue in a company that did not even exist. But the story of wireless television was sexy and exotic. He then showed that when early investors shares were reverse merged with the public company, the investors immediately reaped massive paper gains in a “public” company. Theoretically, Nick was correct. However the reality is that even though you own $1,000,000 in public company shares, you still needed to find a buyer for your shares, of course there were no buyers. But at the time, I did not understand how all of this played out. And admittedly, the only thing I could think of was how I was going to get involved in this and get my own Ferrari and diamond encrusted rolex.

Making Money And Then Getting Fired

Nick opened a sales office in San Diego. The office was spacious, well furnished, and a place that anyone would be proud to work from. The view looked out over the city, the front desk was staffed with a beautiful secretary, and the place screamed of legitimacy. For the next three years, I worked basically non stop, cold calling sometimes 14 straight hours. Even Saturday and Sunday. Arriving at 5am to begin calling prospective investors on the east coast. For the first year, I sold pre public stock in 20 different cities for wireless network build outs. The next year, I sold pre public stock in the conversion of SMR or Specialized Mobile Radio to a new a technology called cellular telephones. My commission rate for each sale was 20%. For the next three years, I personally sold over $20,000,000 to investors all over the US and Canada. I remember one sales call in particular, with a cold call, I talked a home developer in central California to immediately bank wire me $100,000 on nothing more than a  phone call. He had no paperwork in hand, and prior to the telephone call had never met me or heard of my company. I remember hanging up the phone, after receiving the confirmation of the bank wire, and thinking to myself how crazy this was. I thought I was some sort of super hero. The entire office of salespeople could hardly believe that I had conned this poor guy out of $100k with only a phone call.

The success and money went to my head. At some point, while high on cocaine, I got into a nasty argument with Nick. He fired me.

A week later, I got a call from a another man with a deep Boston accent. He explained that he was Nick’s boss, and that he wanted me to fly to meet with him in Boston. It was January and it was very cold, there were no leaves on the trees, the city was a gray and miserable place. Whom would want to live in such a miserable place? Well, it turns out that the man that wanted to meet with me was actually part of an organized group of men from the area. These men did lots of things, none of them legal. I remember meeting with the group of men and thinking to myself, what do these men have to do with the clean and handsome Nick in San Diego? If you have noticed that I am not using the last name of Nick, nor I am using the names of the men in Boston, it is because I fear for my safety. But that is another story to be told, and lets stay on subject.

I Became Nick In Los Angeles

The Boston people sent me to Los Angeles. I was instructed that they would pay for the opening of a sales office, all office furniture, a 200 line telephone system, a operating budget, and a list of three deals to market. My job was the formation and creation of the entire Los Angeles sales operation. I followed the same sales model as Nick. I dressed in flashy clothes, drove a flashy car, and poached cold callers from area stock brokers. I simply copied Nick in San Diego, Ca. I don’t remember how much this office sold, but it was a lot. And my take was 15% of the gross sales of the entire office.

And Now Orange County

Between San Diego and Los Angeles is Orange County. I next opened an office in Orange County. Each office sold something different. The Los Angeles office sold pre public stock. The Orange county office sold partnerships. What sort of partnerships? Honestly, there were so many that I cannot remember. But as an example, we sold partnerships for phone card companies in Mexico, pre production Hollywood movies, restaurant chains, art, infomercials. I never put the deals together, these were the people in Boston. They would put together the deal, and I just marched forward and did what I was told. The money was so good, and I had such an inflated sense of self that I never really put much though as to whether anyone ever made or lost money. I was only concerned with me.

Things Start To Crash

In the mid 1990’s, many firms began to be closed down by the authorities. In fact, the government had to create special divisions and prosecutors that specialized in rooting out these frauds. Of course, everyone knows about Jordan Belfort and Stratton Oakmont. But that story is just one little tiny portion of the scope, and scale of the problem. During the 1990’s, it seems like every month, a new raid would hit and bunch of people would be arrested. In my heart, I knew that I was marked and that eventually I would get caught. But the truth is that I could not let go of the person that I had created. The money, the cars, the lifestyle, the women, the offices, the travel, the jewelry, the managing of over 200 employees. I just could not let it go.  I could not walk away.

They Came For Me

In 1998, it all came crashing down. My offices in San Diego, Los Angeles, Orange County, and Las Vegas were all shut down by the Federal Bureau Of Investigations. The FBI had done a great job of building a case against me. They had agents working in my offices, bugs, wiretaps, paid informants, they knew where every single penny was stashed, knew about every asset, knew about Boston, knew about everything. They took me to jail. I was charged with securities fraud, wire fraud, mail fraud, failure to report income. And most importantly, they took everything from me. I even remember taking off my diamond encrusted rolex and handing it to a special investigator.

Although there has never been a completely accurate accounting of my complete sales volume, for all offices, during my 8 year crime spree…the estimate of gross sales should be close to 600 million dollars. Yes, you are reading this correctly…I defrauded investors out of close to 600 million dollars.

Plea Bargain

From 1998 to 2003, the federal government made my life a living hell. They took from me millions of dollars that I had earned (stolen) and to make matters worse, gave me a plea bargain that made me name names and point fingers at the Boston and New York criminal organizations. I will not use the word mob, or mobsters. This would suggest Irish or Italian gangsters. The truer word would be crime syndicates. These criminal syndicates are made of people from all sorts of nationalities; Jewish, European, etc. The truth is that I wanted to go to jail, I was terrified for my life, and jail was the safest place. It was a horrible, terrible, frightening time of my life. It was Karma. Initially, I was looking at a sentence of 10-16 years. But my ratting, and lets call it what it was…ratting reduced it to 5-6 years. And then from 1998-2003 I managed to scrape together $350,000 in restitution, all through legitimate means. Most shamefully though, my own mother sold her one and only asset, her condo. She had $100,000 in equity. She gave this money to help pay my debt. Somehow my attorney, had managed to convince the judge that a 33 month sentence was fair.

Prison And That Awkward Moment

In 2003, I finally began my 33 month sentence. I reported to the Federal Prison Camp located in Lompoc, Ca. At the time of my reporting, I was completely broken. I was taking 20-30 illegal vicodan each day, and drinking massive amounts of alcohol. My life was a wreck. I was broke, broken, and barely alive. Many of you reading this, whom of course hate me for writing a bad review or being swindled, are surely jumping with glee at reading about the true depths of my despair. I deserved it for sure. Only in the dark and quiet of a prison, can a person really start to see himself. I began to see myself. I did not like what I saw.

After about a year, I was transferred from Lompoc to Oregon to serve out the remainder of my sentence. After my arrival in Oregon, one evening I was sitting in the TV room, watching the grainy image. I turned to complain about the poor quality of the reception, sitting directly behind me was Nick. The guy that introduced me to the business. We looked at each other with surprise. Of course, he had ratted on me, and I had ratted on him. It was the most awkward moment. Here was Nick, the guy driving the Ferrari, now sitting behind me wearing prison suit. Total shock. Long story short, Nick had converted to Christianity. And yes, he even converted me. But this is another story, for another time.

Years 2006-2013

After my release from prison in 2005, I immediately went to work for my wife. She was a loan officer and needed help with sales. Whom better to turn than me? I immediately built a sales organization and within a year, her income increased from $60k per year to $250k per year. Year 2 and 3, gross commissions earned lept over $1,500,000. In 2010, she formed a mortgage bank and again we increased sales. In 2012, she sold the mortgage bank for a nice profit. In 2013, my wife and I divorced.

Trading Schools.org

In 2013, I started Trading Schools.org. Like many of you reading this, I too receive massive amounts of offers from trading vendors that promise riches. Of course, my nose for bullshit is finely tuned. I can smell BS miles before most folks are even aware that something is amiss. And so, I started building a list of every trading vendor that I could find and began reviewing and writing. I also read and was inspired by some of the stories written by Dean Handley and how he had reviewed a million different trading vendors and how he is the only vendor worth purchasing from. Anyway, the Trading Schools.Org is really just an opinion site. Before I write an opinion, I make sure that I record video that proves that what I am saying is the truth. To date, I have uncovered plenty of fraud and found very few actual vendors that are worth the spending of money and time.

A Warning

Sometimes, I get it wrong. My very first review was a company named Christian Financial Radio Network. I recorded a ton of video, took their trades on a simulator, had some good success, and then eventually wrote a nice review. This review pushed a lot of traffic to CFRN. And based upon my review, some folks purchased products and began trading in a live real time environment. Unfortunately, the promise did not match the proof. People lost money. And I looked like a fool. I have since rewritten the review with updated information and hopefully the innocent can steer clear.

I also wrote a scathing review of Night Scalper. I was sure that this guy was a charlatan. I had hour upon hour of video that displayed a poor user experience. After the review was posted, I am sure that the Night Scalper wanted to ring my neck. However, we talked and he proved that he does in fact trade, and he trades successfully. I provided proof in an updated review.

The point is that I sometimes get it wrong. So, if you are reading this, and you got a bad review…then you should contact me. Lets show that you are the real deal. Sometimes I write a bad review, and the vendor just disappears. The website goes down overnight. Amazing.

I also get a lot of phone calls. Mostly nasty diatribes from users that call me to defend the honor of their favorite vendor. I received a 20 minute call yesterday from a country bumpkin that was angry at my review of Investors Underground.  He was calling to defend the honor of the trading room mentor, a female, whom he obviously has a crush over. I thought it was cute that he would call me and scream obscenities for 20 minutes. Great stuff folks.

Dont Believe Me

Dont believe me! You should just use my blog as a point of reference, you need to make up your own mind. Do your own investigation. Use common sense. Sometimes the truth is just sitting there in plain site, but we are blinded by the mirage of our own dreams. If a trading room owner or educator say’s that he consistently makes $1,000 per day, well that’s great. But have them show you proof in the form of account statements. Do research. Do your homework. Sorry if I am seem scolding, but most of these frauds are so blatantly dishonest that a review from my team is a waste of time.

Well that’s it for now. Thanks for reading and let your voice be heard. Please leave comments below. I love answering comments, especially the haters.







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