10 Truths About Mikhail Chernoy
Much gossip, destructive rumors, libel and allegations have been made against MIKHAIL CHERNOY even before he left Russia and moved to Israel in 1994.
A professional and international smear campaign is being waged largely through media manipulation against MIKHAIL CHERNOY by rivals and competitors who continue to perpetrate lies that have been totally rejected by investigating authorities and intelligence agencies around the world.
MIKHAIL CHERNOY has been cleared of each and every investigation, and all charges of wrong-doing—stimulated again and again by fabricated news accounts made against Mikhail Chernoy —have been proved false.
We are here to report the 10 Truths about MIKHAIL CHERNOY and encourage you to keep clicking on our web site and these links to read for yourself the real story of MIKHAIL CHERNOY .
Londons Observer reports:
Mikhail Chernoy rose from running a Tashkent street lottery with ping-pong balls to revolutionising the Soviet industrial machine. A former partner of Abramovich and Berezovsky, he's now suing the country's richest man for $6bn, writes Simon Bell
An English courtroom is set to stage a legal contest next year between Russia's richest man and the mentor who paved the way to his riches.
Oleg Deripaska, whose fortune recently exceeded that of Roman Abramovich, is being sued for 40 per cent of the aluminium company Rusal, a stake worth at least $6bn. The man bringing the suit is a little-known Russian businessman living in Israel called Mikhail Chernoy, who gave Deripaska his first break, in 1993, as one of his factory managers.
Chernoy has avoided the limelight since emigrating to Israel in 1994 and, unlike the oligarchs, stayed out of the political intrigues revolving around Boris Yeltsin and Vladimir Putin. He is, however, the missing link between the 'red directors' of Soviet industry and today's Russian tycoons. As well as fostering Deripaska, Chernoy also backed Iskander Makhmudov and Vladimir Lisin, the metals magnates now worth $8bn and $11bn respectively, and Alexander Mashkevich, a minerals billionaire.
When the Soviet Union collapsed at the end of the Eighties, heavy industry ground to a halt and its labour force went unpaid, but Chernoy was the man who literally kept the country's furnaces burning. By the early Nineties, he had been so successful in wiring up the clapped-out Soviet industrial base to modern Russia that Rusal - which he founded with Berezovsky, Abramovich and Deripaska - was on its way to becoming the largest aluminium company in the world.
Chernoy was born to Jewish parents in Tashkent in 1952. 'Tashkent was a pretty wild place when I was a kid,' he says. 'It attracted roughnecks from all over the Soviet Union, looking for jobs in construction after an earthquake. It was all about drinking and fighting.'
Rejected by Komsomol, the Communist youth league, Chernoy developed his skills as a boxer and basketball player until he was conscripted into the Red Army. When he left the army, he decided to become a businessman. 'At the time it was a capital offence to possess more than $10,000,' he recalls.
Chernoy started a lottery on the streets of Tashkent, played with ping-pong balls in a drum. 'We had to pretend it was just another socialist enterprise', he says. 'But soon we were making 30,000 roubles a month, when a teacher's wage was 120 roubles. We had to pay off the cops and, if they weren't around, show some muscle ourselves.'
His business horizons opened up when he was offered a job as a sports official that allowed him to travel all over the Soviet Union. He began exporting watermelons to the Siberian industrial city of Krasnoyarsk, until he was chased away by criminal gangs. Then he teamed up with an Israeli to sell Russian honey in aluminium milk churns to the West, but when his partner told him he would be paid in tomato sauce rather than dollars, Chernoy dropped the scheme.
'Real money back then only came from the tzekh ['workshops'],' he says. 'It was illegal, but it had always operated. A tzekh owner made a deal with factory managers to buy leftover raw materials. I bought what was rubbish to them and made shoes. You had to bribe everyone: the police, the soviets, the factory managers, the municipal authorities.'
The leap from underground manufacturing to dollar millions came through foreign rouble transfers and bartering. 'Using a Bulgarian company that negotiated foreign debt, I bought cloth from Korea through an Uzbek import body. My commission was 10 per cent. It was my first million. To get the money, I had to go to Austria. I remember standing in this spotlessly clean bank staffed by coiffed blondes in this capitalist country. I was in a complete daze.'
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