A career con man brings his talents to Cleveland’s art world

Sitting in the courtroom as the trial concluded was Coleman's latest girlfriend, Betty Vandenbosch. The Canadian immigrant had short-cropped hair and an affection for cooking, sailing, and the underdog. She also possessed the two things Coleman craved in his victims: wealth and pedigree.

Vandenbosch had a home in Bratenahl, was a professor at Case Western Reserve, and had made a name for herself in Cleveland's close-knit arts world. She served on the boards of DANCECleveland and the Cleveland Music Settlement, where her son went to school. She was also a longtime friend of Sarah Gyorki's father, Miles Kennedy, who'd also been a Case professor. "Betty is absolutely what she says she is," Gyorki says.

Undeterred by the parade of women who took the stand to describe how Coleman had exploited them, Vandenbosch stood by her man. She even helped pay his bail while he awaited trial.

Four months after his release in 2001, the couple married.

It seems astonishing that a business school professor would marry a man with a zest for financial crimes — and a career built on betraying women just like her. It wasn't a decision Vandenbosch took lightly. "I'm not here to say that Zachary Coleman duped me," she says. "I knew the kind of person that I was marrying, and I believed that he deserved another chance."

They bought a $600,000 mansion in Bratenahl and a $22,000 boat, and joined the Edgewater Yacht Club. Coleman says he cooked, cleaned, and entertained guests at her faculty parties. His wife's wealth and prominence bought him entrée into higher circles.

They became the quintessential power couple, attending Democratic Party functions and arts fund-raisers, rubbing shoulders with the likes of politicians such as Eric Fingerhut, Tim Hagan, and Peter Lawson Jones. Coleman liked to wax poetic about being raised in poverty by a single mom and gleaning inspiration from great arts institutions like the Cleveland Orchestra. The tale he told was one of triumph, how he rose above adversity to become an Ivy League success.

Elite Cleveland lapped it up. In addition to running his consulting firm, ZBK Partners, he served as executive director of Race for Success, which was raising money to build an African American Business Hall of Fame. Cleveland Heights businessman George Fraser, who spearheaded the project, remembers Coleman as "an Ivy League graduate, a brilliant attorney."

Then there was his arts work, which Coleman expanded after leaving Arts Collinwood. He moved on to the boards of Art House, a nonprofit near Old Brooklyn that provides classes and promotes artists, and the Community Partnership for Arts and Culture, one of the area's biggest cultural agencies.

"Art had always been important in my mother's life and in my life," Coleman says. He wanted to make sure other children got the same opportunities.

None of the groups had any idea about Coleman's past. And at least one had high praise for his service.

"I've had fantastic interaction with him. I have found him to be an excellent member of the board of trustees," says Amy Craft, executive director of Art House.

It was a plush lifestyle, and Coleman might have ridden it for years. But he couldn't resist slipping back into old habits.

Four years ago, when he was still on good terms with Arts Collinwood, Coleman launched a small venture with Gyorki's father, Miles Kennedy. A retired professor, Kennedy is a beloved figure in Collinwood. He and his wife, Nancy, helped found Arts Collinwood and have invested much time and money in creating an arts district.

Coleman told Kennedy that he was a real estate developer and suggested they buy a building on Waterloo Road to house galleries. They would be equal partners, and Coleman would manage the project, Kennedy remembers.

But two years after purchasing the structure, it housed no gallery. Coleman claims renovations cost twice as much as budgeted. Kennedy has another take: "In my opinion, he turned out not to be so good as a real estate developer."

Coleman had also resumed his trademark scam. He opened an American Express card in Kennedy's name, then ran up $24,700 in charges. Some of the purchases were genuine business expenses, Kennedy says. Others were for travel and clothes, and Kennedy never gave Coleman permission to open the card.

Finally, in 2006, Kennedy bought Coleman's stake, then sued him, alleging that Coleman owed him at least $20,600 in addition to the credit-card fraud. The case is still in court.

When Kennedy was contacted by Scene, the disgust in his voice seemed palpable. But because they are still battling in court, his lawyer had urged him not to talk.

Meanwhile, the rest of Coleman's carefully constructed life was unraveling. Last fall, the hedge fund Manchester Partners sued his consulting group, claiming Coleman had defaulted on a $25,000 loan. Coleman never bothered to defend himself, and the judge issued a default judgment.