The limos pull up outside the handsome East 63rd Street town house by 8:25 each weekday morning. Within five minutes -- exactly five minutes -- half a dozen regulars at one of Manhattan's most elite breakfast clubs have assembled in a splendidly appointed room graced with a Roy Lichtenstein. Noshing bagels, they obediently await the less punctual arrival of their host and boss, Ronald Perelman, 51, the petulant billionaire-about-town whose empire includes banks, television stations and Revlon cosmetics-as well as holdings such as Coleman camping gear and Pantry Pride supermarkets that are less likely to get him on the pages of...
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