Cooking Up a Storm

According to Broadwell, Samuel's violent behavior at the Plaza had a single source: his mercurial relationship with his co-chef, Juanita King. But if the dynamic of their relationship was unusual, its inception was even stranger.

According to Samuel, King, who is related to aprominent Houston family, had an obsession with him to the point that she enrolled in a European cooking school in hopes that she might someday work with him. Samuel recalls that the first time he went to her house, he discovered a pile of his press clips on her table. He was smitten by the intense interest from this woman from an upper-crust Texas family.

Samuel first hired King while at the Lincoln Hotel. "They found out that this girl he put in as sous chef didn't even know how to cook an egg," says Agillon, who also worked with Samuel at Lincoln. And Samuel admits that while her cooking skills were not to his standards, he hired her anyway. "I was absolutely infatuated with that woman," he says. "Nobody ever treated me like this. But...I was absolutely dumb when it came to life. American life."

Samuel's fights with King, who could not be reached for comment, grew so intense, they reverberated into the Plaza Cafe dining room, and the restaurant was having problems retaining staff because of his outbursts. It wasn't long before Broadwell decided he had enough. So he changed all of the restaurant's locks. Samuel was livid and threatened to drive his Porsche through the front doors.

"I would have done it," Samuel admits. "He gave me a partnership on paper, and when he wanted me out, he was supposed to pay me $15,000. But he never paid me."

But Broadwell says that while Samuel had a 49 percent interest in the venture, he had no equity stake. He adds that he never offered to buy out Samuel's share of the partnership, which was given to him in exchange for the use of his name. The dispute, however, prompted Broadwell to hire security guards for protection.

But perhaps the most damning charges leveled against Samuel concern his business practices. Wooing potential backers with his resume and consistent awards of four or more stars from The Dallas Morning News reviewers, Samuel is said to promise critical acclaim and initial high-dollar sales simply with his name. "Avner goes into a restaurant with a bang, makes a buck, and leaves," says a chef who followed on Samuel's heels at one restaurant. "That's his philosophy in restaurants."

But Samuel, as well as one of his former backers, maintains it's the other way around. "If I'm opening a restaurant, I have Avner as an opening chef, get my four stars from Waltrina [Stovall, former restaurant critic of the News], and kick him out and get someone else," explains the backer. "He was being used by people because Waltrina easily gave him the four stars."

Still others say that while Samuel's name may bring short-term success, the long-term impact can be devastating. "Whatever he touches, he puts in the ground," says Kovacic. "All he does is offer himself. And what he offers is not very much. In the end, he milks it, and he moves on."

Franki and Gabriela Kovacic sold Samuel the parent company of Franki's Li'l Europe restaurant in 1992 so that he could open Avner's. Under the terms of the sale, Samuel had 18 months to purchase the stock in the parent company. He also was required to operate a restaurant on the premises through December 31, 1996, the point at which the Kovacics' lease guarantee expired. After the stock transfer, the Kovacics were to receive 2 percent of the restaurant's gross monthly sales payable monthly as a fee for their personal guarantee on the lease.

But Samuel purchased the stock for $60,000 in just three months, then reneged on his agreement to pay the Kovacics their 2 percent cut. He believes the accelerated stock purchase payment relieved him of the monthly obligation. The Kovacics sued Samuel for fraud, breach of contract, and appropriating corporate funds for personal use. In early 1996 they were awarded more than $49,000 in damages that they have yet to collect.

"There's no way they're going to see a dime of it," says Samuel defiantly, who filed for Chapter 7 bankruptcy late last year, listing $2,800 in assets and more than $121,000 in liabilities, including a $51,000 claim by his ex-wife, Amy.

But the transaction swirls in still more controversy. Samuel says that he made the $60,000 stock purchase payment out of proceeds from Avner's sales. But one of Samuel's partners, who spoke on the condition that he not be identified, says he provided the funds in exchange for 50 percent interest in the restaurant. As Avner's fortunes declined precipitously, the partner proposed buying Samuel's remaining interest for $45,000, which he would raise over a two-month period.

But Samuel couldn't wait. An argument ensued, and the next day Samuel closed Avner's, loaded up all of the restaurant's furnishings and supplies, and sold them in June 1993. Avner's partner then paid $20,000 to cover overdue lease payments and other expenses and was instrumental in the development of Enigma, which opened in the space the following September.