The tryout.

AuthorGray, Tim
PositionNew real estate developers' plan to turn building into a commercial establishment

He had all the right moves. His partner, the right connections. Can these rookies make it as players in the developing game?

Tom Niemann rolls up to the clutch of old tobacco warehouses in his black Land Rover. It's 11:30 a.m., and he's 30 minutes late for the interview. The car is shiny, spotless, though springtime pollen has defied most folks' efforts to keep theirs clean. Tucked in back is a bag of golf clubs. Niemann, in khakis and a golf sweater, jumps out, clutching a Land Rover briefcase. "I've got to be somewhere at noon, so we're going to have to make this quick."

An hour and 20 minutes later, the wannabe Durham developer is still talking. He's deep into his favorite subject: the $31 million project he's doing with former Duke University basketball player Brian Davis. They want to renovate four former Liggett Group tobacco warehouses and a powerhouse in downtown Durham. Their plan? Turn the block-long brick buildings into loft apartments for students and yuppies. There will be shops, too.

As he finally strides toward his car to leave, Niemann stops and turns. "You better get this on the cover because this is going to be the hottest redevelopment project on the East Coast. I've got The Wall Street Journal calling, and The New York Times has a piece that's about to drop."

For Niemann, a first-time developer, this project is a ticket to big-shot status. The ride comes on Davis' coattails. Without Davis, also a neophyte developer, Niemann would have had trouble getting Durham to embrace the deal.

In a region that reveres basketball, Davis played on two national-champion teams. He's an African American in a city where blacks make up half the population and the majority of the City Council. He has connections. He brought in his buddy and former teammate Christian Laettner, now a star for the Atlanta Hawks, as an investor. The project has ridden their celebrity status to ballyhoo in the press and kid-glove treatment from local officials.

Niemann, meanwhile, hangs in the background, lining up the money and working his own high-tone Duke connections. His father-in-law, Tom Keesee, is an emeritus university trustee and former CEO of Bessemer Trust Co. in New York. His father-in-law's best friend, Niemann dutifully points out, is Terry Sanford, former U.S. senator, North Carolina governor and Duke president.

Niemann, whose scattered experience has been mostly in finance, is the project's Mr. Inside to Davis' Mr. Outside. Or think of him as Dick Morris to Davis' Bill Clinton.

They make an odd couple. One is 6-foot-7, 27 years old, a former hoops star who grew up poor in New Jersey. The other, a foot shorter, 34 years old, white, a go-getter from St. Louis who married into the right family. Davis is low-key and charismatic. Niemann, loud and cocksure. But he sees only similarities. "I knew I was going to work with professional athletes. I feel I have some of the same drive characteristics - goal-setting, discipline, ambition, focus. I'm a pretty good amateur golfer." He lists on his resume hitting a hole in one at age 13.

All the attention on Davis has obscured the fact that he and Niemann have been more talk than action. As late as May, their company, Blue Devil Ventures, hadn't nailed down full financing for the project they've dubbed West Village. Yet they were saying construction would begin in July or August. They promised the Durham City Council that, in return for public funds, they would give a substantial piece of the subcontracting to minority- or women-owned companies. But they haven't put on paper any measurable goals or a plan for achieving them. "They've made some general promises, but as...

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