Diving into the Fox Hole of the Mysterious Preserve Sporting Club and Residences

Photo illustration by Dana Smith.

Sitting in the dining room of Double Barrel Steak by David Burke at the Preserve Sporting Club & Residences in Richmond this past April, Paul Mihailides helps himself to a slab of crisp bacon that’s dangling from a clothespin and dripping grease.

I’ve been granted a behind-the-scenes experience to explore the Preserve, a woodland resort that offers sporting clays, an automated indoor shooting range, golf course, bird hunting fields, stocked fishing ponds, luxury accommodations and four-star dining by celebrity chef David Burke.

I’m drinking coffee and eating a pheasant sandwich — apropos for the exclusive club where members can periodically shoot the bird for sport. 

“I love bird hunting,” Mihailides says. “Whatever you shoot, you eat — it’s fulfilling.”

Mihailides, equity owner of the Preserve, doesn’t order anything for himself. And he’s only picking at the bacon — a signature dish by Burke. We discuss his life, family, business and long-term vision for the Preserve. 

And he’s clearly wary of me. At one point, he loosely references that his staff debriefed him to let him know I’m an investigative reporter. He says he hopes the article about the Preserve will be positive.  

At the time, it didn’t strike me as unusual — my title can make some people jumpy during interviews. But months after our lunch, I discover there are other issues percolating. A former employee — Alison McDaniel — had been putting together the pieces to file a graphic twenty-nine-page federal lawsuit accusing Mihailides of sexually harassing her and other female workers at the Preserve. “Mihailides subjected her to repeated sexual advances including attempts to kiss her on the mouth, requests for sexual favors, inappropriate touching, ogling with suggestive overtones and verbal and physical harassment of a sexual nature, which were unwelcome and offensive to McDaniel,” wrote attorney Mark Gagliardi in the lawsuit, which was filed in July.

Paul Mihailides inside a horse barn at the Preserve. Photography courtesy of the Preserve Sporting Club & Residences.

Mihailides declined to be interviewed again after McDaniel filed the lawsuit. Some staffers I’d been talking with stopped responding. 

The Preserve attorney Nicole Benjamin has fired back at the allegations, accusing McDaniel — an actress and model hired as a resort spokesperson in 2019 — of stealing company property, computer crimes and interfering with company relationships. 

“It was not until Ms. McDaniel refused to return the Preserve’s property that Ms. McDaniel made any allegation of harassment or discrimination,” Benjamin said in July.

The company and Mihailides filed counterclaims against McDaniel, accusing her of trying to extort $50,000 for the return of stolen IT equipment, sabotage the company’s social media presence and “infiltrate the Mihailides family by developing a close relationship with them.” 

The defendants also alleged McDaniel “embarked on a public campaign to harass, embarrass, threaten, intimidate, defame and slander Mihailides.” 

The sexual harassment case has added a new layer of controversy to the Preserve, which for years has drawn a lot of outside attention for its secretive membership, unique amenities and location in one of the smallest communities of the country’s smallest state. 

Membership fees are anywhere from $1,000 for access to the shooting range to a one-time fee of $125,000 (plus an annual fee of $7,500) for full access, including the ability to stay in one of its many multimillion-dollar homes up to a dozen times per year. (The homes have sold for $2 to $4 million.) 

Some of the amenities — namely the bird hunting — are causing headaches for a faction of Richmond residents, who report finding wounded or dead birds on their roadways and backyards. Some also complain about the steady sound of gunfire, the high cost of membership and how the business is changing the town. Don’t get them started on the look of the new billboard-esque sign at the resort’s Kingstown Road entrance. 

Others are more wary of the constant legal battles with town officials over everything from zoning and planning matters to taxes. 

“He’s not a good neighbor,” says John Peixinho, who’s one of only three families since 1691 to own the historic Samuel Clarke Farm in town. 

“You have to be honorable, equitable and charitable if you’re going to run a business like the Preserve in Richmond or any business anywhere,” he says.  

In many ways, the Preserve has become somewhat of a litmus test in the town that’s home to 7,700 residents. There’s widespread disagreement over whether the resort represents an out-of-touch haven for gun-loving elitists or a much-needed influx of economic activity in a bedroom community with one of the highest residential tax rates in the state. 

“I’m happy to have them as a neighbor,” says Richmond resident Julie LeBeau, pointing out the business is one of the largest taxpayers in town. 

LeBeau and her family moved to Richmond three years ago because she wanted a yard for her children and a good school system. She’s not bothered by the sound of gunshots, which she says can be common in any rural community — with or without the Preserve. 

“We don’t have much here in the community and the Preserve has brought jobs to the area,” she says. While she’s not a member, she has visited the Preserve multiple times for events and its spa, one of a handful of amenities open to the public. 

Hunting at the Preserve. Photography courtesy of the Preserve Sporting Club & Residences. Photo by Andrew Irby.

‘A community of like-minded individuals’

For Mihailides, the Preserve is a culmination of his life’s work, which includes creating companies and working on real-estate ventures tied to resorts, golf and residential and commercial properties.

A North Kingstown resident, Mihailides grew up on the Cranston-Providence border wanting to be a police officer. But that changed around his eighteenth birthday when he bought a home, fixed it up and flipped it for a hefty profit at the time, discovering a far more lucrative career could be made in real-estate development. It has become the backbone of his business ventures ever since. 

Beyond business, he talks about family a lot. Two of his three children are involved in his business. Mihailides is married and has grandchildren. He gets teary eyed when he talks about both his parents dying from COVID-19 during the coronavirus pandemic.  

“My mother got sick because she had to work in the hospital,” he says. “My mother got it; my father got it. They both died.” 

At lunch, long before he became ensnared in the sexual harassment lawsuit, Mihailides is wearing muted, outdoorsy clothes befitting of his woodland complex. He tells me the Preserve at its core is designed for families who can come and “create memories.” 

“The technological revolution has desensitized America in so many different ways and it’s also desensitized family, where a kid will text and say, ‘Mommy, get me a bagel,’ when they’re fifteen feet away,” he says. “I wanted to create a community of like-minded individuals to help grow our family unit — both my family and other families.” 

Mihailides’ demeanor is light, pleasant, family-centric and inviting. He asks me back to shoot clays — something I did growing up in rural Vermont. His supporters call him a visionary, who sees opportunity and creativity where others don’t. 

But more than a dozen interviews with community members, town officials, attorneys and people who have worked with him over the years offer another version of Mihailides. They describe him as a hard-nosed businessman with a shrewd acumen that might be mistaken for callousness. More than one person compares him to Logan Roy, the patriarch in the HBO sensation “Succession.” (He didn’t strike me as so ruthless.) 

But he is clever, calculated, a family man whose social media is plastered with photos of him and his children and grandchildren. He’s also linked to several lawsuits beyond the McDaniel complaint of sexual harassment. The most prominent is against the town alleging — in part — Richmond officials participated in a criminal enterprise under the state’s Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act, or RICO Act, to hinder and delay development of the Preserve. 

The law has been used as a tool to combat organized crime, such as the Mafia, and the case is currently being appealed to the R.I. Supreme Court, where the town has hired outside counsel to fight the allegations. If the appeal is successful, the lawsuit could set a new and long-lasting precedent for Rhode Island cities and towns. 

“Rhode Island has never extended the reach of RICO to include municipal liability for criminal acts,” attorney James Marusak argued on behalf of the town in court documents. “It should not do so now.” 

A stone-built “hobbit house” at the Preserve is an attraction for social media influencers. Photography courtesy of the Preserve Sporting Club & Residences.

‘We’ve been compared to Disney a lot’

Driving through one of the most rural areas of Rhode Island this past spring in a racing green Bentley Continental GT coupe, a mashup of Doja Cat, Rema and Lizzo is playing on the radio. 

We’re heading for the Preserve’s equestrian training stables where members have access to horses for riding, traversing trails or carriage rides. 

Behind the Wheel of the $240,000 car is Lindsey Evans, who runs marketing and public relations for the Preserve [A follow-up email to her in August delivers the reply: “Ms. Evans has sadly taken a position with another company, in the interim Alec Mihailides will be standing in as the Director of Marketing while we rebuild and rehire our team.”] At the time, she’s well-versed in offering a glowing review of her place of employment, telling me earlier in the day she tailors her property tours to the visitor. 

A different presentation will be given to journalists compared to a business relation or potential member, she explains. Yet, while I’m not there to become a member, the presentation is filled with selling points. 

“We’ve been compared to Disney a lot,” she says, adding, “there’s always something new.” 

The car is provided by Bentley, which has a partnership with the Preserve, a recurring theme baked into the company’s business model. Earlier in the day, we rode an off-road vehicle far better suited to traversing the sprawling outdoor property. We stop by multiple homes and apartments, along with the shooting range and spa. 

One of the biggest sensations at the Preserve — at least on social media — are its “hobbit houses,” a trio of chic stone-built structures with round doors set into a hillside of boulders decked out with endless rows of pumpkins and gourds in fall and a garden of blossoms in spring. 

Groups can host extravagant dinners at about $250 per person inside the homes with bourbon pairings sponsored by Maker’s Mark. Alternatively, for about $200, guests can visit the homes and take photos — a big draw for social media influencers, Evans says. She calls the structures a “viral sensation,” claiming they have more than two billion views across print, digital and social media.  

“They make marketing very easy,” Evans quips about the buildings, which she says have a partnership with the J.R.R. Tolkien empire.

While visiting the many amenities, however, it’s hard not to notice the property is relatively empty. The Preserve’s landscape is pockmarked with buildings, with upward of fifty residential properties, including private homes, apartments and tiny houses. People can purchase, rent or use them part-time, depending on their membership level. 

I notice one home with an SUV in the driveway, but there’s little sign of residential life otherwise. We pass a group of golfers and see what appears to be a couple of people shooting clays in the distance. 

The gun shop has some customers mulling about, and closer to the clubhouse, a mother and her children — who look thoroughly amused — are getting a ride around the ponds. But it’s hardly the robust, bustling activity one might expect to see at a resort. 

Evans says it’s normally packed during events and holidays, and Mihailides tells me membership is so strong that he’s looking to replicate the Preserve model in Naples, Florida. 

“This has been a great success,” he says, highlighting the restaurant where we’re having lunch as evidence. Burke signed a fifteen-year agreement with the Preserve in February. 

“David Burke isn’t coming to Rhode Island because we’re in the middle of nowhere. It’s because of the people we have and how highly we’re thought of and how many people come through the facility.” 

In all fairness, I’m touring the property on a Wednesday afternoon in early April — hardly the most popular time for second-, third- or fourth-home owners to visit. But without looking at the company’s books, I take Mihailides at his word on membership levels.  

There’s little in the way of publicly available paperwork revealing a complete list of members. Last year, a slate of tax appeals filed with the town included several real estate holding companies listed with the same address as the Preserve. When compared to corporate records held by the state, they reveal a limited window into some members at the time, including names that match a doctor, a university professor, an entrepreneur and a car dealership owner. 

Many of the other properties were owned by different real estate holding companies with harder-to-understand ownership structures. A good portion were under the names of companies owned by Mihailides or his family, according to corporate records. 

“There’s a lot,” Mihailides says when I ask about his membership, although he declines to get more specific. 

“We try to respect our members,” he adds.   

Talking to Richmond residents, rumors run amuck about celebrities that pop up from time-to-time, but nobody knows for sure whether they’re members or just visiting. A scrub of social media shows movie star Catherine Zeta-Jones posting a video from the Preserve in 2018. 

Mihailides says privacy is part of the Preserve’s allure, but he also acknowledges the resort’s relationship with guns makes it a target for criticism and he doesn’t want to thrust his members into the middle of the country’s gun debate. 

“The shooting community is vast, but we don’t talk about it because it’s not the best topic to talk about,” he says. 

A FAMARS custom-designed, handcrafted rifle. Photography courtesy of the Preserve Sporting Club & Residences. Photo by Andrew Irby.

‘Causing havoc’

Mihailides says his father-in-law turned him onto shooting for sport, which has become his passion that’s also central to the Preserve’s identity and business.  

He’s acutely aware of the sensitivity surrounding the gun debate and at times sounds conflicted on the subject. 

On the one hand, he says he’s not a proponent of large-capacity magazines. But he expresses frustration with the fast-paced change of gun-control legislation, saying it costs him and other law-abiding gun owners money to continuously adapt to the new rules. 

Mihailides says it’s especially unfair to the bespoke gun community, which is essentially enthusiasts of custom-made low-capacity weapons used for recreational sports such as shooting clays — the main focus at the Preserve. 

“No one is going in and misbehaving in public spaces and causing havoc with two shotgun bullets,” he says. 

Legislative changes have also cost him money, he says, namely in 2022 when Rhode Island lawmakers passed a law banning large-capacity magazines. The ban applies to all magazines with more than ten rounds, which became problematic for some of his guns that hold eleven or twelve rounds. 

“They’re not really high-capacity magazines, but the manufacturers didn’t make ten-round magazines,” he says, grumbling that they immediately stopped selling the weapons unlike some other gun shops that he says trusted they’d be protected under the Second Amendment. 

“It slowed things down for six to seven months, which essentially cost millions of dollars,” he says.  

In addition to the outside pavilions where people can shoot clays, the Preserve boasts one of the longest indoor shooting ranges in the world. In one area, Evans says it takes two minutes to retrieve the paper shooting target because it’s so far away. 

Outside the shooting area is the gun shop, which has partnerships with well-known brands such as Beretta and Holland & Holland. In a private section, the shop becomes museum-like, highlighting the avid gun collector in Mihailides.  

He owns the Italian gun company Fabrica Armi d’Abbiatico e Salvinelli, or FAMARS, which makes custom-designed shotguns and rifles. The company is known for its handcrafted woodwork, with shotguns starting at $36,000 and going up to $400,000 apiece. 

But shooting is also one of the many friction points in the community, which is seemingly divided between factions of people concerned about how the massive resort is changing the fabric of the town versus those who want Richmond to become more business friendly. 

And much of Mihailides’ long-strained relationship with the town stems from the shooting range:  A dispute that began more than a decade ago has turned into a Supreme Court battle that could lead to a potentially landmark decision for cities and towns across the state. 

From Mihailides’ perspective, the pushback the Preserve has received over the years has been unfair and is more broadly indicative of how the state treats its homegrown business owners.  

“As Rhode Islanders, we don’t help Rhode Islanders,” he tells me. “We cannibalize ourselves.” 

Multi-million dollar homes at The Preserve Sporting Club & Residences. Photography courtesy of the Preserve Sporting Club & Residences.

‘I bet you’re amazing in bed’

When Mihailides bought an initial 178-acre parcel of land in 2011 and unveiled a plan for an outdoor shooting range and club, the Preserve started marketing the amenities to potential members to drum up business in addition to the existing golf course. 

But when the businessowner came back to the town three years later to submit official plans, he learned the town had recently amended local zoning rules to prohibit indoor and outdoor shooting ranges, along with the Preserve’s “other planned outdoor recreation activities,” according to court documents. 

The issue turned into a three-year-long slog, with Mihailides alleging the Preserve was forced to pay tens of thousands of dollars for different studies. Ultimately, the town reversed course and approved permitting for the resort. 

Despite the resolution, however, litigation ensued against the town in December 2021, with the Preserve accusing it of continuing to deprive the businesses of their rights, which “has caused and continues to cause” substantial harm and damages, according to court documents. 

Specifically, there were five claims against the town, including that it had “established an enterprise” of consultants and third-party contractors to obtain money from the Preserve, making it guilty of “racketeering activity” under the state’s RICO Act. 

R.I. Superior Court Judge Richard Licht ordered the case be tossed out one year later, ruling the RICO Act didn’t apply because “there are no allegations to support a finding that funds were received under false pretenses.” 

“Thus, there can be no RICO violation,” he wrote in his decision.   

The case is now on appeal to the state Supreme Court. Attorney Marusak, who is arguing the case on behalf of the town, declined to comment on pending litigation. 

But in legal arguments, he describes it as a “case like no other,” and urges the state’s highest court to uphold the lower court’s decision. 

The lawsuit is holding some back from talking about the Preserve at all.  

“There is pending litigation between the Preserve … and the Town of Richmond, so at this time I will respectfully decline your invitation to discuss the development,” Town Planner Shaun Lacey wrote to me in an email. 

Mihailides doesn’t address the lawsuit specifically, but acknowledges that one of the hardest challenges he’s faced is “overregulation.” He points to his other business ventures in different states, namely Florida and the Carolinas, where “everyone rolls out the red carpet.”

“They show you the quickest path to success,” he says, comparing it to opening night of the David Burke restaurant, when he says the R.I. Health Department showed up at 6 p.m. to do an inspection. 

“It’s so unbelievable to me,” he says. 

But the Preserve is no stranger to legal battles. A review of state court cases shows the company filed excessive tax lawsuits against the town’s tax assessor in 2021 and 2022. 

Also in 2022, the Preserve sued National Grid — which has since been bought by Rhode Island Energy — alleging the resort had “encountered power supply and delivery failure” that damaged its electrical equipment. 

Other lawsuits filed against and from former business relationships, guests and other companies are either pending or have been closed. McDaniel is the latest to join the fray, and her attorney Gagliardi — who declined interviews with himself and McDaniel — suggested there could be more on the horizon. 

“You should know that one victim has already reached out to Ali since we filed suit indicating she wanted to make a written statement detailing her experience at the Preserve,” he wrote in an email. 

McDaniel’s twenty-nine-page lawsuit is riddled with graphic details of alleged encounters she had with Mihailides over the years after she began working with him beginning in 2019. The accusations include him making unwanted sexual advances toward McDaniel and other female employees, even referring to her in front of  guests as his “mistress,” “future ex-wife” and “girlfriend,” according to the lawsuit. 

In one instance, McDaniel accused Mihailides of entering her cabin on the resort while she was showering, even though the door was locked. 

“When McDaniel yelled at Mihailides asking what he was doing in her cabin, he stated that he was just making sure that she was awake,” McDaniel alleged in the lawsuit. She explained the experience made her so distressed she “placed objects in front of the door to alert her in case Mihailides entered while she was showering or sleeping.”

The lawsuit also includes communications McDaniel said she had with other women, including one who alleged Mihailides told her, “You’re so empathetic, I bet you’re amazing in bed.” 

“That was one of the many horrifying and disgusting things he said to me,” the woman added, according to the lawsuit.

The 170-page response filed on behalf of Mihailides points the finger back at McDaniel, painting her as a disgruntled contractor who tried to cozy up to the Mihailides family for financial gain, and then turned on the company and owner after it didn’t work out as planned. 

The company also highlights that she took similar legal action in a case involving pop icon Justin Timberlake when she worked as a bartender and waitress in 2007, alleging she “became the subject of vile and discriminatory conduct, and of a hostile working environment, because of her gender.” 

McDaniel alleged Timberlake and others “engaged in and allowed others to engage in the viewing of internet pornography on the restaurant’s premises, in [her] presence and to her extreme emotional distress and humiliation.” The case was settled. 

In the Preserve case, where McDaniel is seeking $3.3 million in damages, Benjamin argued McDaniel’s allegations were “false and malicious and imputed conduct which injuriously affects Mihailides’s reputation, tends to degrade him in society and brings him into public disfavor and contempt.” 

The claims and counterclaims so far are taking the predictable form of “he-said, she-said,” making it challenging to know if McDaniel’s experience will become part of the growing number of subordinates speaking out against superiors in a post-Me-Too world. But Gagliardi suggested McDaniel could be just the tip of the iceberg at the Preserve.  

“We expect more women to come forward and possibly more lawsuits to be filed,” he wrote in an email in July. 

The Hilltop Lodge at the Preserve Sporting Club Hotel and Resort. Photography courtesy of the Preserve Sporting Club & Residences.

‘The center of New England’

The lawsuits have had a chilling effect in the community, as several residents were willing to discuss the Preserve for this story — but only off the record out of fear of getting called into court. 

Mihailides declined through his attorney to discuss the McDaniel lawsuit, but he said in April he believes his relationship with the town is getting better because it “finally realizes that this concept is a sustainable, great model.”  

There are some with local power who agree, including Town Councilor Michael Colasante, a staunch supporter of the Preserve. He tells me he doesn’t like how the town pushed back at Mihailides at the beginning, arguing it sends the wrong message that Richmond isn’t business-friendly at a time when it desperately needs a bigger tax base. 

And because the Preserve members mostly use properties as second homes, or places they visit for a week or month at a time, Colasante argues the company doesn’t put a strain on local infrastructure or put children into local schools — making it a win-win for the town budget.  

“Paul is a visionary,” Colasante says, telling me he’s known Mihailides for years. 

“Unfortunately, the town of Richmond has been running in a certain direction for the past decade and a half,” he says. “People have very little vision if any vision at all. They are reluctant and they don’t understand it. When you start having big players come into town, like Paul, the discussion really goes to a higher level.” 

But people like Peixinho, who — like many at the Preserve — own a second home, are wary of Mihailides and what they claim is his business practice of always fighting and trying to find ways to pay less when it comes to taxes. 

“They have to be good neighbors and being a good neighbor means paying your taxes on time and not appealing every tax assessment,” Peixinho says. “I’m not against the Preserve, I’m just concerned about the pattern I see.” 

For his part, Mihailides looks beyond how he fits into Richmond and focuses more on how the Preserve fits into the regional, national and global community. He points to glowing write-ups in Forbes and other publications, such as Travel + Leisure, that have highlighted the Preserve for its unique offerings. 

“No one is really spending the kind of money to do what I’ve done anywhere in America — never mind in Richmond, Rhode Island, which I think is the center of New England,” he says. 

What Mihailides has failed to answer over more than the decade he’s been planning and building the Preserve, however, is whether Richmond wants to be the center of New England.  

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Eli Sherman is an Emmy- and Edward R. Murrow-Award winning reporter with the CBS affiliate WPRI-TV. He’s a member of the station’s Target 12 investigative team.