You usually don't become a billionaire -- like David Cordish -- by doing nothing.

But you never know.

In 1982, David S. Cordish and the city of Niagara Falls partnered in the development of the Rainbow Centre Mall. Cordish, through one of his companies, got an unusually long 75-year lease in return for his faithful promise to develop and operate a "first-class" mall.

The city was responsible for maintenance of the outer walls and roof and operating the adjoining five-story parking ramp. The ramp was to provide free parking for patrons of the mall, reduced-rate parking for downtown businesses, and hoped-for lucrative parking rates for tourists visiting Niagara Falls.

In the mid-1990's, with a sharp decline in Canadian customers following a drop in the currency exchange rate, combined with a sort of permanent recession that has gripped our city, the mall's business dwindled. Cordish closed the mall in 2001. The lease was amended from a percentage-based rent to an absurdly low annual rent of $106,000 -- only 45 cents a square foot.

The average rent for commercial space even in depressed Niagara Falls is more than $10 per square foot.

At first, Cordish said he planned to convert the vacant mall to a family entertainment complex, with "multi-screen theater, video parlors and ticketed attractions." Later it was to be a "dinosaur edu-tainment attraction" featuring "authentic artifacts" and Jurassic Park-type animation, with dance clubs and "live performance venues." Next, a Seneca-run high-stakes bingo parlor. Later, a "giant nightclub." Then a Nascar-themed attraction.

For 10 years, the block-long concrete building remained vacant in the heart of downtown, serving as a hideous obstruction for tourists who had to walk around it to get to the falls. Through three mayoral administrations, the ugly, vacant mall helped Cordish earn a citywide reputation as our premier do-nothing developer.

With 11 million square feet of commercial development under his belt, the vacant Rainbow Center Mall lease represents a miniscule portion of David S. Cordish's portfolio.

When Paul Dyster ran for mayor in 2007, he railed against Cordish, saying he was in "violation" of his lease.

After Dyster was elected, the two men met in March 2008. A few months later, New York State Comptroller Thomas P. DiNapoli suddenly launched an investigation to determine whether Cordish was indeed in violation. Dyster claimed the comptroller's investigation was initiated without his input. Cordish and many others did not believe him.

Nevertheless, Cordish knew he could not stand by and await the comptroller's report, which might give momentum to the already popular notion that the city should void his lease and give the mall to someone who might do something with it.

In August 2008, Cordish filed a lawsuit claiming the city, not he, had not lived up to the lease: The city had not repaired the mall's roof. That, and the poor condition and management of the attached parking ramp, prevented development at the site.

Cordish was the first not to live up to his end of the bargain -- to keep the mall open.

Now Cordish was going to sue the city for not living up to their end of the bargain. Good strategy.

At first, the mayor talked tough. "We're going to ... keep pressure on (Cordish) to develop. We're going to insist they live up to their agreement," he said.

The city filed a countersuit.

Then came the waffling.

"There's a fine line you have to walk sometimes in order to get developers to move forward," Dyster said. Then he added that one needs to be careful when "dealing with billionaire developers."

By May 2009, an out-of-court settlement ended the lawsuits.

Sad, really.

The Dyster administration stipulated that Cordish no longer had to fulfill his contractual obligation to operate a retail mall because of "the current business climate." All the city got from Cordish was to get him to agree to try to cooperate on plans for another downtown development and consider alternative uses for the building.

Cordish, however, got something concrete. He required the city to stipulate they would make repairs on his mall and the ramp.

The mayor, ignoring the harm that the continued vacancy of the mall property causes the city, bargained away the city's rights to enforce development there.

Afterward, in what appeared to be a face-saving statement, Dyster said, "From my perspective, it doesn't make sense for me, as mayor, to be pushing someone to do something that it doesn't make economic sense for them to do, to act against their own interests. On the other hand, I think it's also the case that the city had a strong interest in moving forward on this question, recognizing that we have a future obligation here to maintain the parking ramp and roof and so on."

Cordish spanked him good.

In June, DiNapoli issued his report. Without teeth in the lease anymore, which had required Cordish to run a first-class mall, DiNapoli could do nothing. He called the Cordish deal a bad one. He suggested the city fumbled. He could have said more, perhaps, but why embarrass a mayor of the same political party?

The deal was done: Cordish could keep the mall empty until 2056.

But why would a man want to keep an empty building in the middle of a famous tourist destination? And pay for it too?

Simple. The rent is inordinately cheap.

Someone who has big money can afford to pay $106,000 per year and simply wait for the home run, the multimillion-dollar deal.

The Rainbow mall represents a minuscule portion of their portfolio.

And even though it would harm this little city by his holding this linchpin property vacant, Cordish doesn't live here. It does not affect him.

The state may buy it for the Niagara Experience Center, or Seneca may want it to expand gaming or other operations -- not this year, but say 10 years from now. Cordish may be able to sell the mall lease for perhaps $50 million.

In fact, the home run may be near.

As readers who have read the over-eager announcements know, the mall is being considered for the Niagara County Community College's proposed Culinary Arts Institute. The college wants 70,000 square feet inside the mall, about one-third of its space.

The proposed culinary institute would allow students to take classes there and receive "hands-on" training at a restaurant, bakery, deli, wine store and bookstore operated by the college.

Under terms in a non-binding memorandum of understanding, the college -- if, in fact, the necessary public and private funding is found -- will pay for the development of the culinary institute inside the mall: about $15 million. The city and state -- if they can find the money -- will pay for the repairs on the outside walls and roof of the mall, and upgrade the parking ramp: about $5 million.

If the deal goes forward, Dyster and Cordish will again have to renegotiate the terms of Cordish's lease. The county-owned college cannot or will not (sub)lease directly from a private developer, Cordish, but will lease from the true landlord -- the city -- or in the alternative, the state or the county.

Cordish might demand that his already low rent on the remaining 140,000 square feet of mall space be converted to free rent for the 46 years left on his lease. Or he may want millions up front.

Either way, Cordish is playing it smart.

Everybody is non-profit. Everybody an altruist.

Except for one.

Get the politicians to get themselves hooked and then -- name the price.

"This is going to happen and is going to be a major, major generator" for Niagara Falls, Cordish told the Buffalo News. But he never named his price.

Dyster would be wise to announce, when he makes his breathless, over-promising, cheerleading-style announcements, that this deal can be done only if Cordish is fair with the price.

But in December, as Dyster told the press that he and state officials were in the process of "ironing out" the finer details of the project, the memorandum of understanding only stated that Cordish would receive an unspecified "negotiated amount."

Finer details aside, the first and foremost detail to iron out with any big businessman is to negotiate the price. Price first, not at the end. That's good business.

Cordish may wind up doing exceedingly well for doing almost nothing.

Which was perhaps the billionaire's original plan when he closed the mall.