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Published: September 9, 2007
These days, the middle ground looks awfully good to David Accomando.
He has been to the extremes, from millionaire to pauper, via gambling.
Accomando, now living in Dade City, has resumed his life as a jewelry commodities broker, the business that earned him a comfortable living before he was lured by the roll of the dice.
'I worked hard to get where I am today,' he said, indicating a table sporting jewelers tools in a boardroom at the Quality Inn and Suites in New Port Richey. 'It wasn't given to me.'
Looking back, Accomando can see subtle signs of the addictive personality that would one day command his life.
'You're never good enough until you beat the next person,' he explains.
In school, he was driven to get good grades and later became a top bodybuilder, an ability that eventually would help him when, as a homeless man, he had to lift 40 pounds of frankfurters every four seconds and carry them to a conveyor belt.
Early on, Accomando built his own successful business as a commodities broker specializing in gold, silver, estate jewelry and watches. He did business with individuals, dealers and collectors.
He got to know jewelry.
'I read a lot. I learned all my gold and platinum and silver markings. I could tell origin and how old they were. Most of it was in here,' he said, tapping his head.
He also learned a lot about watches and became a member of the National Association of Watch and Clock Collectors.
Life Fell Apart
The comfortable life began to fall apart in 2002 when Accomando gambled for the first time in Biloxi, Miss.
The rush of a first-time big win made him hungry for more.
He quit his jewelry business, and gambled every day from 11 p.m. to 4:30 a.m.
Accomando never drank. He didn't have to.
'I was on a high, a real high. I felt almost invincible,' he said.
The records of a couple of Biloxi casinos furnished by Accomando tell the last part of the story.
One shows him winning and losing more than half a million dollars with a net loss of just more than $3,000 in 2002.
Accomando sums it up by admitting he won and then lost more than $6 million in 2002 and 2003.
He threw in $150,000 of his own money to recoup the losses.
He lost that, too.
'That's the compulsiveness of a gambler,' he said.
Depression set in.
He lost weight because he stopped eating. He began wrapping toilet paper around his waist to protect himself from his belt, which cut his body because he had no fat left to cushion it.
'I used to drink NyQuil to knock me out, because I didn't want to face life.'
The cold remedy made him sleepy, he said.
A jeweler friend suggested he invest some of his own money in jewelry and put it in a safe deposit box to be there when the gambling winnings stopped.
Accomando ignored the advice. 'I felt the luck of chance was still there. Why shouldn't I spend that money when I could use it to keep doubling?'
Lost Everything
Feb. 10, 2004. The date is etched in Accomando's memory. That's when he lost everything.
It is also when he gambled for the last time.
For a while, he lived in a rented apartment. When he could no longer pay the rent, he began sleeping in his car.
He was homeless for six months, bathing at rest stops and staying a few steps ahead of the car repossessors.
It was during that time he began working at the meat packing plant in Plant City lifting frankfurters.
It was back-breaking, mind-numbing work and people often couldn't finish one day at the job, he recalls.
'There were times I'd go back and cry,' he says.
But that was when the fighter in Accomando came out: 'I'd say I've been successful all my life, and I'm not going to give up.'
He stayed six months on that job, working from 6 in the morning to 6 in the evening and then staying until 3 the next morning, if needed.
Copies of W-2 forms Accomando produced indicate he made a little more than $4,500 during that period.
He also worked at Wal-Mart stocking shelves, earning a total of $500.
After six months, he rented a room in a mobile home for $350. The landlord wanted to sell him a bed for $50. That was out of Accomando's budget. He slept on the floor.
Slow Road Back
He slowly began to accumulate money from his meager earnings. He started making back child-support payments. He couldn't pay what he owed and didn't have the legal fees to get his monthly payment reduced. But he paid what he could.
Finally, he persuaded his sister to split an investment on a diamond with him. He sold it at a profit.
His sister loaned him $3,000. With that, and the money from the diamond, Accomando went on the road for almost three years, falling back on buying and selling jewelry and watches that had once successfully supported him.
'It was trial and error,' he remembers. 'But one day, I got a big hit, and my business started getting better.'
He was living in Dade City in 2005. He has been coming to New Port Richey for about 18 months. He signed a five-year contract with the Quality Inn and Suites on U.S. 19 to rent one of the boardrooms four days a week.
From there, he assesses jewelry brought to him.
His old business is once again supporting him well.
Accomando evaluates some of the gold and stone by eye: 'Fake gold has dimples, wear marks. It can be picked up by a magnet.'
He is always on the lookout for estate jewelry. 'The workmanship is far better than anything made today.'
He attends Gamblers Anonymous meetings weekly in Lakeland. He has sponsored five people in three years of being with the group.
Accomando says he gives generously to charity. He readily admits his tax lawyer told him to do so.
But, he says, giving to charity also is a way of helping those who do not have the comfortable life he enjoys today.
Is it a way of expressing the gratitude he feels for his life today?
'Big time,' Accomando said.
For information on Accomando's work, call (813) 768-1635.
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