Chapter IV: Part 4

As soon as I was sure of this I naturally began to buy it, at about 160. It kept on acting all hunky, and so I kept on buying it, five hundred shares at a clip. _The more I bought the stronger it got, without any spurt, and I was feeling very comfortable._ I couldn’t see any reason why that stock shouldn’t go up a great deal more; not with what I read on the tape.

All of a sudden the manager came to me and said they’d got a message from New York--they had a direct wire of course--asking if I was in the office, and when they answered yes, another came saying: “Keep him there. Tell him Mr. Harding wants to speak to him.”

I said I’d wait, and bought five hundred shares more of UP. I couldn’t imagine what Harding could have to say to me. I didn’t think it was anything about business. My margin was more than ample for what I was buying. Pretty soon the manager came and told me that Mr. Harding wanted me on the long-distance telephone.

“Hello, Ed,” I said.

But he said, “What the devil’s the matter with you? Are you crazy?”

“Are you?” I said.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Buying all that stock.”

“Why, isn’t my margin all right?”

“It isn’t a case of margin, but of being a plain sucker.”

“I don’t get you.”

“Why are you buying all that Union Pacific?”

“It’s going up,” I said.

“Going up, hell! Don’t you know that the insiders are feeding it out to you? You’re just about the easiest mark up there. You’d have more fun losing it on the ponies. Don’t let them kid you.”

“Nobody is kidding me,” I told him. “I haven’t talked to a soul about it.”

But he came back at me: “You can’t expect a miracle to save you every time you plunge into that stock. Get out while you’ve still got a chance,” he said. “It’s a crime to be long of that stock at this level--when these highbinders are shoveling it out by the ton.”

“The tape says they’re buying it,” I insisted.

“Larry, I got heart disease when your orders began to come in. For the love of Mike, don’t be a sucker. Get out! Right away. It’s liable to bust wide open any minute. I’ve done my duty. Good-by!” And he hung up.

Ed Harding was a very clever chap, unusually well-informed and a real friend, disinterested and kind-hearted. And what was even more, I knew he was in position to hear things. All I had to go by, in my purchases of UP., was my years of studying the behaviour of stocks and my perception of certain symptoms which experience had taught me usually accompanied a substantial rise. _I don’t know what happened to me, but I suppose I must have concluded that my tape reading told me the stock was being absorbed simply because very clever manipulation by the insiders made the tape tell a story that wasn’t true._ Possibly I was impressed by the pains Ed Harding took to stop me from making what he was so sure would be a colossal mistake on my part. Neither his brains nor his motives were to be questioned. Whatever it was that made me decide to follow his advice, I cannot tell you; but follow it, I did.

I sold out all my Union Pacific. _Of course if it was unwise to be long of it, it was equally unwise not to be short of it. So after I got rid of my long stock I sold four thousand shares short. I put out most of it around 162._

The next day the directors of the Union Pacific Company declared a 10 per cent dividend on the stock. At first nobody in Wall Street believed it. It was too much like the desperate manœuvre of cornered gamblers. All the newspapers jumped on the directors. But while the Wall Street talent hesitated to act the market boiled over. Union Pacific led, and on huge transactions made a new high-record price. Some of the room traders made fortunes in an hour and I remember later hearing about a rather dull-witted specialist who made a mistake that put three hundred and fifty thousand dollars in his pocket. He sold his seat the following week and became a gentleman farmer the following month.

Of course I realised, the moment I heard the news of the declaration of the unprecedented 10 per cent dividend, that I got what I deserved for disregarding the voice of experience and listening to the voice of a tipster. _My own convictions I had set aside for the suspicions of a friend, simply because he was disinterested and as a rule knew what he was doing._

As soon as I saw Union Pacific making new high records I said to myself, “This is no stock for me to be short of.”

All I had in the world was up as margin in Harding’s office. I was neither cheered nor made stubborn by the knowledge of that fact. What was plain was that I had read the tape accurately and that I had been a ninny to let Ed Harding shake my own resolution. There was no sense in recriminations, because I had no time to lose; and besides, what’s done is done. So I gave an order to take in my shorts. The stock was around 165 when I sent in that order to buy in the four thousand UP. at the market. I had a three-point loss on it at that figure. Well, my brokers paid 172 and 174 for some of it before they were through. I found when I got my reports that Ed Harding’s kindly intentioned interference cost me forty thousand dollars. _A low price for a man to pay for not having the courage of his own convictions! It was a cheap lesson._

I wasn’t worried, because the tape said still higher prices. It was an unusual move and there were no precedents for the action of the directors, but I did this time what I thought I ought to do. As soon as I had given the first order to buy four thousand shares to cover my shorts I decided to profit by what the tape indicated and so I went along. I bought four thousand shares and held that stock until the next morning. Then I got out. I not only made up the forty thousand dollars I had lost but about fifteen thousand besides. If Ed Harding hadn’t tried to save me money I’d have made a killing. But he did me a very great service, for it was the lesson of that episode that, I firmly believe, _completed_ my education as a trader.

It was not that all I needed to learn was not to take tips but follow my own inclination. _It was that I gained confidence in myself and I was able finally to shake off the old method of trading._ That Saratoga experience was my last haphazard, hit-or-miss operation. From then on I began to think of basic conditions instead of individual stocks. I promoted myself to a higher grade in the hard school of speculation. It was a long and difficult step to take.

_VII_

I never hesitate to tell a man that I am bullish or bearish. But I do not tell people to buy or sell any particular stock. In a bear market all stocks go down and in a bull market they go up. I don’t mean of course that in a bear market caused by a war, ammunition shares do not go up. I speak in a general sense. But the average man doesn’t wish to be told that it is a bull or a bear market. What he desires is to be told specifically which particular stock to buy or sell. He wants to get something for nothing. He does not wish to work. He doesn’t even wish to have to think. It is too much bother to have to count the money that he picks up from the ground.

Well, I wasn’t that lazy, but I found it easier to think of individual stocks than of the general market and therefore of individual fluctuations rather than of general movements. _I had to change and I did._

_People don’t seem to grasp easily the fundamentals of stock trading. I have often said that to buy on a rising market is the most comfortable way of buying stocks. Now, the point is not so much to buy as cheap as possible or go short at top prices, but to buy or sell at the right time. When I am bearish and I sell a stock, each sale must be at a lower level than the previous sale. When I am buying, the reverse is true. I must buy on rising scale. I don’t buy long stock on a scale down, I buy on a scale up._

Let us suppose, for example, that I am buying some stock. _I’ll buy two thousand shares at 110. If the stock goes up to 111 after I buy it I am, at least temporarily, right in my operation, because it is a point higher; it shows me a profit. Well, because I am right I go in and buy another two thousand shares._ If the market is still rising I buy a third lot of two thousand shares. Say the price goes up to 114. I think it is enough for the time being. I now have a trading basis to work from. I am long six thousand shares at an average of 111¾, and the stock is selling at 114. I won’t buy any more just then. I wait and see. I figure that at some stage of the rise there is going to be a reaction. I want to see how the market takes care of itself after that reaction. It will probably react to where I got my third lot. Say that after going higher it falls back to 112¼, and then rallies. Well, just as it goes back to 113¾ I shoot an order to buy four thousand--at the market of course. Well, if I get that four thousand at 113¾ I know something is wrong and I’ll give a testing order--that is, I’ll sell one thousand shares to see how the market takes it. But suppose that of the order to buy the four thousand shares that I put in when the price was 113¾ I get two thousand at 114 and five hundred at 114½ and the rest on the way up so that for the last five hundred I pay 115½. Then I know I am right. It is the way I get the four thousand shares that tells me whether I am right in buying that particular stock at that particular time--_for of course I am working on the assumption that I have checked up general conditions pretty well and they are bullish. I never want to buy stocks too cheap or too easily._

I remember a story I heard about Deacon S. V. White when he was one of the big operators of the Street. He was a very fine old man, clever as they make them, and brave. He did some wonderful things in his day, from all I’ve heard.

It was in the old days when Sugar was one of the most continuous purveyors of fireworks in the market. H. O. Havemeyer, president of the company, was in the heyday of his power. I gather from talks with the old-timers that H.O. and his following had all the resources of cash and cleverness necessary to put through successfully any deal in their own stock. They tell me that Havemeyer trimmed more small professional traders in that stock than any other insider in any other stock. As a rule, the floor traders are more likely to thwart the insiders’ game than help it.

One day a man who knew Deacon White rushed into the office all excited and said, “Deacon, you told me if I ever got any good information to come to you at once with it and if you used it you’d carry me for a few hundred shares.” He paused for breath and for confirmation.

The deacon looked at him in that meditative way he had and said, “I don’t know whether I ever told you exactly that or not, but I am willing to pay for information that I can use.”

“Well, I’ve got it for you.”

“Now, that’s nice,” said the deacon, so mildly that the man with the info swelled up and said, “Yes, sir, deacon.” Then he came closer so nobody else would hear and said, “H. O. Havemeyer is buying Sugar.”

“Is he?” asked the deacon quite calmly.

It peeved the informant, who said impressively: “Yes, sir. Buying all he can get, deacon.”

“My friend, are you sure?” asked old S.V.

“Deacon, I know it for a positive fact. The old inside gang are buying all they can lay their hands on. It’s got something to do with the tariff and there’s going to be a killing in the common. It will cross the preferred. And that means a sure thirty points for a starter.”

“D’you really think so?” And the old man looked at him over the top of the old-fashioned silver-rimmed spectacles that he had put on to look at the tape.

“Do I think so? No, I don’t think so; I know so. Absolutely! Why, deacon, when H. O. Havemeyer and his friends buy Sugar as they’re doing now they’re never satisfied with anything less than forty points net. I shouldn’t be surprised to see the market get away from them any minute and shoot up before they’ve got their full lines. There ain’t as much of it kicking around the brokers’ offices as there was a month ago.”

“He’s buying Sugar, eh?” repeated the deacon absently.

“Buying it? Why, he’s scooping it in as fast as he can without putting up the price on himself.”

“So?” said the deacon. That was all.

But it was enough to nettle the tipster, and he said, “Yes, sir-ree! And I call that very good information. Why, it’s absolutely straight.”

“Is it?”

“Yes; and it ought to be worth a whole lot. Are you going to use it?”

“Oh, yes. I’m going to use it.”

“When?” asked the information bringer suspiciously.

“Right away.” And the deacon called: “Frank!” It was the first name of his shrewdest broker, who was then in the adjoining room.

“Yes, sir,” said Frank.

“I wish you’d go over to the Board and sell ten thousand Sugar.”

“Sell?” yelled the tipster. There was such suffering in his voice that Frank, who had started out at a run, halted in his tracks.

“Why, yes,” said the deacon mildly.

“But I told you H. O. Havemeyer was buying it!”

“I know you did, my friend,” said the deacon calmly; and turning to the broker: “Make haste, Frank!”

The broker rushed out to execute the order and the tipster turned red.

“I came in here,” he said furiously, “with the best information I ever had. I brought it to you because I thought you were my friend, and square. I expected you to act on it--”

“I am acting on it,” interrupted the deacon in a tranquillising voice.

“But I told you H.O. and his gang were buying!”

“That’s right. I heard you.”

“Buying! Buying! I said buying!” shrieked the tipster.

“Yes, buying! That is what I understood you to say,” the deacon assured him. He was standing by the ticker, looking at the tape.

“But you are selling it.”

“Yes; ten thousand shares.” And the deacon nodded. “Selling it, of course.”

He stopped talking to concentrate on the tape and the tipster approached to see what the deacon saw, for the old man was very foxy. While he was looking over the deacon’s shoulder a clerk came in with a slip, obviously the report from Frank. The deacon barely glanced at it. He had seen on the tape how his order had been executed.

It made him say to the clerk, “Tell him to sell another ten thousand Sugar.”

“Deacon, I swear to you that they really are buying the stock!”

“Did Mr. Havemeyer tell you?” asked the deacon quietly.

“Of course not! He never tells anybody anything. He would not bat an eyelid to help his best friend make a nickel. But I know this is true.”

“Do not allow yourself to become excited, my friend.” And the deacon held up a hand. He was looking at the tape. The tip-bringer said, bitterly:

“If I had known you were going to do the opposite of what I expected I’d never have wasted your time or mine. But I am not going to feel glad when you cover that stock at an awful loss. I’m sorry for you, deacon. Honest! If you’ll excuse me I’ll go elsewhere and act on my own information.”

“I’m acting on it. I think I know a little about the market; not as much, perhaps, as you and your friend H. O. Havemeyer, but still a little. What I am doing is what my experience tells me is the wise thing to do with that information you brought me. After a man has been in Wall Street as long as I have he is grateful for anybody who feels sorry for him. Remain calm, my friend.”

The man just stared at the deacon, for whose judgment and nerve he had great respect.

Pretty soon the clerk came in again and handed a report to the deacon, who looked at it and said: “Now tell him to buy thirty thousand Sugar. Thirty thousand!”

The clerk hurried away and the tipster just grunted and looked at the old gray fox.

“My friend,” the deacon explained kindly, “I did not doubt that you were telling me the truth as you saw it. But even if I had heard H. O. Havemeyer tell you himself, I still would have acted as I did. For there was only one way to find out if anybody was buying the stock in the way you said H. O. Havemeyer and his friends were buying it, and that was to do what I did. The first ten thousand shares went fairly easily. It was not quite conclusive. But the second ten thousand was absorbed by a market that did not stop rising. The way the twenty thousand shares were taken by somebody proved to me that somebody was in truth willing to take all the stock that was offered. It doesn’t particularly matter at this point who that particular somebody may be. So I have covered my shorts and am long ten thousand shares, and I think that your information was good as far as it went.”

“And how far does it go?” asked the tipster.

“You have five hundred shares in this office at the average price of the ten thousand shares,” said the deacon. “Good day, my friend. Be calm the next time.”

“Say, deacon,” said the tipster, “won’t you please sell mine when you sell yours? I don’t know as much as I thought I did.”

That’s the theory. _That is why I never buy stocks cheap._ Of course I always try to buy effectively--in such a way as to help my side of the market. When it comes to selling stocks, it is plain that nobody can sell unless somebody wants those stocks.

If you operate on a large scale you will have to bear that in mind all the time. A man studies conditions, plans his operations carefully and proceeds to act. He swings a pretty fair line and he accumulates a big profit--on paper. Well, that man can’t sell at will. You can’t expect the market to absorb fifty thousand shares of one stock as easily as it does one hundred. He will have to wait until he has a market there to take it. There comes the time when he thinks the requisite buying power is there. When that opportunity comes he must seize it. As a rule he will have been waiting for it. _He has to sell when he can, not when he wants to._ To learn the time, he has to watch and test. It is no trick to tell when the market can take what you give it. But in starting a movement it is unwise to take on your full line unless you are convinced that conditions are exactly right. _Remember that stocks are never too high for you to begin buying or too low to begin selling. But after the initial transaction, don’t make a second unless the first shows you a profit. Wait and watch._ That is where your tape reading comes in--to enable you to decide as to the proper time for beginning. _Much depends upon beginning at exactly the right time._ It took me years to realize the importance of this. It also cost me some hundreds of thousands of dollars.

I don’t mean to be understood as advising persistent pyramiding. _A man can pyramid and make big money that he couldn’t make if he didn’t pyramid; of course._ But what I meant to say was this: Suppose a man’s line is five hundred shares of stock. I say that he ought not to buy it all at once; not if he is speculating. If he is merely gambling the only advice I have to give him is, don’t!

Suppose he buys his first hundred, and that promptly shows him a loss. Why should he go to work and get more stock? He ought to see at once that he is in wrong; at least temporarily.

_VIII_

The Union Pacific incident in Saratoga in the summer of 1906 made me more independent than ever of tips and talk--that is, of the opinions and surmises and suspicions of other people, however friendly or however able they might be personally. Events, not vanity, proved for me that I could read the tape more accurately than most of the people about me. I also was better equipped than the average customer of Harding Brothers in that I was utterly free from speculative prejudices. The bear side doesn’t appeal to me any more than the bull side, or vice versa. My one steadfast prejudice is against being wrong.

Even as a lad I always got my own meanings out of such facts as I observed. It is the only way in which the meaning reaches me. I cannot get out of facts what somebody tells me to get. They are my facts, don’t you see? If I believe something you can be sure it is because I simply must. When I am long of stocks it is because my reading of conditions has made me bullish. But you find many people, reputed to be intelligent, who are bullish because they have stocks. I do not allow my possessions--or my prepossessions either--to do any thinking for me. That is why I repeat that I never argue with the tape. To be angry at the market because it unexpectedly or even illogically goes against you is like getting mad at your lungs because you have pneumonia.

I had been gradually approaching the full realization of how much more than tape reading there was to stock speculation. Old man Partridge’s insistence on the vital importance of being continuously bullish in a bull market doubtless made my mind dwell on the need above all other things of determining the kind of market a man is trading in. _I began to realize that the big money must necessarily be in the big swing. Whatever might seem to give a big swing its initial impulse, the fact is that its continuance is not the result of manipulations by pools or artifice by financiers, but depends upon basic conditions. And no matter who opposes it, the swing must inevitably run as far and as fast and as long as the impelling forces determine._

After Saratoga I began to see more clearly--perhaps I should say more maturely--that since the entire list moves in accordance with the main current there was not so much need as I had imagined to study individual plays or the behaviour of this or the other stock. Also, by thinking of the swing a man was not limited in his trading. He could buy or sell the entire list. In certain stocks a short line is dangerous after a man sells more than a certain percentage of the capital stock, the amount depending on how, where and by whom the stock is held. But he could sell a million shares of the general list--if he had the price--without the danger of being squeezed. A great deal of money used to be made periodically by insiders in the old days out of the shorts and their carefully fostered fears of corners and squeezes.

_Obviously the thing to do was to be bullish in a bull market and bearish in a bear market._ Sounds silly, doesn’t it? But I had to grasp that general principle firmly before I saw that to put it into practice really meant to anticipate probabilities. It took me a long time to learn to trade on those lines. But in justice to myself I must remind you that up to then I had never had a big enough stake to speculate that way. A big swing will mean big money if your line is big, and to be able to swing a big line you need a big balance at your broker’s.

I always had--or felt that I had--to make my daily bread out of the stock market. It interfered with my efforts to increase the stake available for the more profitable but slower and therefore more immediately expensive method of trading on swings.

But not only did my confidence in myself grow stronger but my brokers ceased to think of me as a sporadically lucky Boy Plunger. They had made a great deal out of me in commissions, but now I was in a fair way to become their star customer and as such to have a value beyond the actual volume of my trading. _A customer who makes money is an asset to any broker’s office._

The moment I ceased to be satisfied with merely studying the tape I ceased to concern myself exclusively with the daily fluctuations in specific stocks, and when that happened I simply had to study the game from a different angle. I worked back from the quotation to first principles; from price-fluctuations to basic conditions.

Of course I had been reading the daily dope regularly for a long time. All traders do. But much of it was gossip, some of it deliberately false, and the rest merely the personal opinion of the writers. The reputable weekly reviews when they touched upon underlying conditions were not entirely satisfactory to me. The point of view of the financial editors was not mine as a rule. It was not a vital matter for them to marshal their facts and draw their conclusions from them, but it was for me. Also there was a vast difference in our appraisal of the element of time. _The analysis of the week that had passed was less important to me than the forecast of the weeks that were to come._

For years I had been the victim of an unfortunate combination of inexperience, youth and insufficient capital. But now I felt the elation of a discoverer. My new attitude toward the game explained my repeated failures to make big money in New York. But now with adequate resources, experience and confidence, I was in such a hurry to try the new key that I did not notice that there was another lock on the door--_a time lock!_ It was a perfectly natural oversight. I had to pay the usual tuition--a good whack per each step forward.

I studied the situation in 1906 and I thought that the money outlook was particularly serious. Much actual wealth the world over had been destroyed. Everybody must sooner or later feel the pinch, and therefore nobody would be in position to help anybody. It would not be the kind of hard times that comes from the swapping of a house worth ten thousand dollars for a carload of race horses worth eight thousand dollars. It was the complete destruction of the house by fire and of most of the horses by a railroad wreck. It was good hard cash that went up in cannon smoke in the Boer War, and the millions spent for feeding nonproducing soldiers in South Africa meant no help from British investors as in the past. Also, the earthquake and the fire in San Francisco and other disasters touched everybody--manufacturers, farmers, merchants, labourers and millionaires. The railroads must suffer greatly. I figured that nothing could stave off one peach of a smash. _Such being the case there was but one thing to do--sell stocks!_

I told you I had already observed that my initial transaction, after I made up my mind which way I was going to trade, was apt to show me a profit. And now when I decided to sell I plunged. Since we undoubtedly were entering upon a genuine bear market I was sure I should make the biggest killing of my career.

The market went off. Then it came back. It shaded off and then it began to advance steadily. My paper profits vanished and paper losses grew. One day it looked as if not a bear would be left to tell the tale of the strictly genuine bear market. _I couldn’t stand the gaff. I covered. It was just as well. If I hadn’t I wouldn’t have had enough to buy a postal card. I lost most of my fur, but it was better to live to fight another day._

I had made a mistake. But where? I was bearish in a bear market. That was wise. I had sold stocks short. That was proper. _I had sold them too soon. That was costly. My position was right but my play was wrong._ However, every day brought the market nearer to the inevitable smash. So I waited and when the rally began to falter and pause I let them have as much stock as my sadly diminished margins permitted. _I was right this time--for exactly one whole day_, for on the next there was another rally. Another big bite out of yours truly! So I read the tape and covered and waited. In due course I sold again--and again they went down promisingly and then they rudely rallied.

It looked as if the market were doing its best to make me go back to my old and simple ways of bucket-shop trading. _It was the first time I had worked with a definite forward-looking plan embracing the entire market instead of one or two stocks._ I figured that I must win if I held out. Of course at that time I had not developed my system of placing my bets or I would have put out my short line on a declining market, as I explained to you the last time. I would not then have lost so much of my margin. _I would have been wrong but not hurt._ You see, I had observed certain facts but had not learned to co-ordinate them. My incomplete observation not only did not help but actually hindered.

_I have always found it profitable to study my mistakes._ Thus I eventually discovered that it was all very well not to lose your bear position in a bear market, but that at all times the tape should be read to determine the propitiousness of the time for operating. If you begin right you will not see your profitable position seriously menaced; and then you will find no trouble in sitting tight.

Of course to-day I have greater confidence in the accuracy of my observations--in which neither hopes nor hobbies play any part--and also I have greater facilities for verifying my facts as well as for variously testing the correctness of my views. But in 1906 the succession of rallies dangerously impaired my margins.

I was nearly twenty-seven years old. I had been at the game twelve years. _But the first time I traded because of a crisis that was still to come I found that I had been using a telescope._ Between my first glimpse of the storm cloud and the time for cashing in on the big break the stretch was evidently so much greater than I had thought that I began to wonder whether I really saw what I thought I saw so clearly. _We had had many warnings and sensational ascensions in call-money rates._ Still some of the great financiers talked hopefully--at least to newspaper reporters--and the ensuing rallies in the stock market gave the lie to the calamity howlers. Was I fundamentally wrong in being bearish or merely temporarily wrong in having begun to sell short too soon?

I decided that I began too soon, but that I really couldn’t help it. Then the market began to sell off. That was my opportunity. I sold all I could, and then stocks rallied again, to quite a level.

It cleaned me out.

There I was--right and busted!

I tell you it was remarkable. What happened was this: I looked ahead and saw a big pile of dollars. Out of it stuck a sign. It had “Help yourself,” on it, in huge letters. Beside it stood a cart with “Lawrence Livingston Trucking Corporation” painted on its side. I had a brand-new shovel in my hand. There was not another soul in sight, so I had no competition in the gold-shoveling, which is one beauty of seeing the dollar-heap ahead of others. The people who might have seen it if they had stopped to look were just then looking at baseball games instead, or motoring or buying houses to be paid for with the very dollars that I saw. That was the first time that I had seen big money ahead, and I naturally started toward it on the run. Before I could reach the dollar-pile my wind went back on me and I fell to the ground. The pile of dollars was still there, but I had lost the shovel, and the wagon was gone. So much for sprinting too soon! I was too eager to prove to myself that I had seen real dollars and not a mirage. I saw, and knew that I saw. Thinking about the reward for my excellent sight kept me from considering the distance to the dollar-heap. I _should have walked and not sprinted._

That is what happened. I didn’t wait to determine whether or not the time was right for plunging on the bear side. On the one occasion when I should have invoked the aid of my tape-reading I didn’t do it. That is how I came to learn that even _when one is properly bearish at the very beginning of a bear market it is well not to begin selling in bulk until there is no danger of the engine back-firing_.

I had traded in a good many thousands of shares at Harding’s office in all those years, and, moreover, the firm had confidence in me and our relations were of the pleasantest. I think they felt that I was bound to be right again very shortly and they knew that with my habit of pushing my luck all I needed was a start and I’d more than recover what I had lost. They had made a great deal of money out of my trading and they would make more. So there was no trouble about my being able to trade there again as long as my credit stood high.

The succession of spankings I had received made me less aggressively cocksure; perhaps I should say less careless, for of course I knew I was just so much nearer to the smash. All I could do was wait watchfully, as I should have done before plunging. It wasn’t a case of locking the stable after the horse was stolen. I simply had to be sure, the next time I tried. _If a man didn’t make mistakes he’d own the world in a month. But if he didn’t profit by his mistakes he wouldn’t own a blessed thing._

Well, sir, one fine morning I came downtown feeling cocksure once more. There wasn’t any doubt this time. I had read an advertisement in the financial pages of all the newspapers that was the high sign I hadn’t had the sense to wait for before plunging. It was the announcement of a new issue of stock by the Northern Pacific and Great Northern roads. The payments were to be made on the installment plan for the convenience of the stockholders. This consideration was something new in Wall Street. It struck me as more than ominous.

For years the unfailing bull item on Great Northern preferred had been the announcement that another melon was to be cut, said melon consisting of the right of the lucky stockholders to subscribe at par to a new issue of Great Northern stock. These rights were valuable, since the market price was always way above par. But now _the money market_ was such that the most powerful banking houses in the country were none too sure the stockholders would be able to pay cash for the bargain. And Great Northern preferred was selling at about 330!

As soon as I got to the office I told Ed Harding, “The time to sell is right now. This is when I should have begun. Just look at that ad, will you?”

He had seen it. I pointed out what the bankers’ confession amounted to in my opinion, but he couldn’t quite see the big break right on top of us. He thought it better to wait before putting out a very big short line by reason of the market’s habit of having big rallies. If I waited prices might be lower, but the operation would be safer.

“Ed,” I said to him, “the longer the delay in starting the sharper the break will be when it does start. That ad is a signed confession on the part of the bankers. What they fear is what I hope. This is a sign for us to get aboard the bear wagon. It is all we needed. If I had ten million dollars I’d stake every cent of it this minute.”

I had to do some more talking and arguing. He wasn’t content with the only inferences a sane man could draw from that amazing advertisement. It was enough for me, but not for most of the people in the office. I sold a little; too little.

A few days later St. Paul very kindly came out with an announcement of an issue of its own; either stocks or notes, I forget which. But that doesn’t matter. What mattered then was that I noticed the moment I read it that the date of payment was set ahead of the Great Northern and Northern Pacific payments, which had been announced earlier. It was as plain as though they had used a megaphone that grand old St. Paul was trying to beat the other two railroads to what little money there was floating around in Wall Street. The St. Paul’s bankers quite obviously feared that there wasn’t enough for all three and they were not saying, “After you, my dear Alphonse!” If money already was that scarce--and you bet the bankers knew--what would it be later? The railroads needed it desperately. It wasn’t there. What was the answer?

Sell ’em! Of course! The public, with their eyes fixed on the stock market, saw little--that week. The wise stock operators saw much--that year. That was the difference.

For me, that was the end of doubt and hesitation. I made up my mind for keeps then and there. That same morning I began what really was my first campaign along the lines that I have since followed. I told Harding what I thought and how I stood, and he made no objections to my selling Great Northern preferred at around 330, and other stocks at high prices. I profited by my earlier and costly mistakes and sold more intelligently.

My reputation and my credit were reestablished in a jiffy. That is the beauty of being right in a broker’s office, whether by accident or not. But this time I was cold-bloodedly right, not because of a hunch or from skillful reading of the tape, but as a result of my analysis of conditions affecting the stock market in general. I wasn’t guessing. I was anticipating the inevitable. It did not call for any courage to sell stocks. I simply could not see anything but lower prices, and I had to act on it, didn’t I? What else could I do?

The whole list was soft as mush. Presently there was a rally and people came to me to warn me that the end of the decline had been reached. The big fellows, knowing the short interest to be enormous, had decided to squeeze the stuffing out of the bears, and so forth. It would set us pessimists back a few millions. It was a cinch that the big fellows would have no mercy. I used to thank these kindly counsellors. I wouldn’t even argue, because then they would have thought that I wasn’t grateful for the warnings.

The friend who had been in Atlantic City with me was in agony. He could understand the hunch that was followed by the earthquake. He couldn’t disbelieve in such agencies, since I had made a quarter of a million by intelligently obeying my blind impulse to sell Union Pacific. He even said it was Providence working in its mysterious way to make me sell stocks when he himself was bullish. And he could understand my second UP. trade in Saratoga because he could understand any deal that involved one stock, on which the tip definitely fixed the movement in advance, either up or down. But this thing of predicting that all stocks were bound to go down used to exasperate him. What did that kind of dope do anybody? How in blazes could a gentleman tell what to do?

I recalled old Partridge’s favourite remark--“Well, this is a bull market, you know”--as though that were tip enough for anybody who was wise enough; as in truth it was. It was very curious how, after suffering tremendous losses from a break of fifteen or twenty points, people who were still hanging on, welcomed a three-point rally and were certain the bottom had been reached and complete recovery begun.

One day my friend came to me and asked me, “Have you covered?”

“Why should I?” I said.

“For the best reason in the world.”

“What reason is that?”

“To make money. They’ve touched bottom and what goes down must come up. Isn’t that so?”

“Yes,” I answered. “First they sink to the bottom. Then they come up; but not right away. They’ve got to be good and dead a couple of days. It isn’t time for these corpses to rise to the surface. They are not quite dead yet.”

An old-timer heard me. He was one of those chaps that are always reminded of something. He said that William R. Travers, who was bearish, once met a friend who was bullish. They exchanged market views and the friend said, “Mr. Travers, how can you be bearish with the market so stiff?” and Travers retorted, “Yes! Th-the s-s-stiffness of d-death!” It was Travers who went to the office of a company and asked to be allowed to see the books. The clerk asked him, “Have you an interest in this company?” and Travers answered, “I sh-should s-say I had! I’m sh-short t-t-twenty thousand sh-shares of the stock!”

Well, the rallies grew feebler and feebler. I was pushing my luck for all I was worth. Every time I sold a few thousand shares of Great Northern preferred the price broke several points. I felt out weak spots elsewhere and let ’em have a few. All yielded, with one impressive exception; and that was Reading.

When everything else hit the toboggan slide Reading stood like the Rock of Gibraltar. Everybody said the stock was cornered. It certainly acted like it. They used to tell me it was plain suicide to sell Reading short. There were people in the office who were now as bearish on everything as I was. But when anybody hinted at selling Reading they shrieked for help. I myself had sold some short and was standing pat on it. At the same time I naturally preferred to seek and hit the soft spots instead of attacking the more strongly protected specialties. My tape reading found easier money for me in other stocks.

I heard a great deal about the Reading bull pool. It was a mighty strong pool. To begin with they had a lot of low-priced stock, so that their average was actually below the prevailing level, according to friends who told me. Moreover, the principal members of the pool had close connections of the friendliest character with the banks whose money they were using to carry their huge holdings of Reading. As long as the price stayed up the bankers’ friendship was staunch and steadfast. One pool member’s paper profit was upward of three millions. That allowed for some decline without causing fatalities. No wonder the stock stood up and defied the bears. Every now and then the room traders looked at the price, smacked their lips and proceeded to test it with a thousand shares or two. They could not dislodge a share, so they covered and went looking elsewhere for easier money. Whenever I looked at it I also sold a little more--just enough to convince myself that I was true to my new trading principles and wasn’t playing favourites.

In the old days the strength of Reading might have fooled me. The tape kept on saying, “Leave it alone!” But my reason told me differently. I was anticipating a general break, and there were not going to be any exceptions, pool or no pool.

I have always played a lone hand. I began that way in the bucket shops and have kept it up. It is the way my mind works. I have to do my own seeing and my own thinking. But I can tell you after the market began to go my way I felt for the first time in my life that I had allies--the strongest and truest in the world: underlying conditions. They were helping me with all their might. Perhaps they were a trifle slow at times bringing up the reserves, but they were dependable, provided I did not get too impatient. I was not pitting my tape-reading knack or my hunches against chance. The inexorable logic of events was making money for me.

The thing was to be right; to know it and to act accordingly. General conditions, my true allies, said “Down!” and Reading disregarded the command. It was an insult to us. It began to annoy me to see Reading holding firmly, as though everything was serene. It ought to be the best short sale in the entire list because it had not gone down and the pool was carrying a lot of stock that it would not be able to carry when the money stringency grew more pronounced. Some day the bankers’ friends would fare no better than the friendless public. The stock must go with the others. If Reading didn’t decline, then my theory was wrong; I was wrong; facts were wrong; logic was wrong.

I figured that the price held because the Street was afraid to sell it. So one day I gave to two brokers each an order to sell four thousand shares, at the same time.

You ought to have seen that cornered stock, that it was sure suicide to go short of, take a headlong dive when those competitive orders struck it. I let ’em have a few thousand more. The price was 111 when I started selling it. Within a few minutes I took in my entire short line at 92.

I had a wonderful time after that, and in _February of 1907 I cleaned up_. Great Northern preferred had gone down sixty or seventy points, and other stocks in proportion. _I had made a good bit, but the reason I cleaned up was that I figured that the decline had discounted the immediate future._ I looked for a fair recovery, but I wasn’t bullish enough to play for a turn. I wasn’t going to lose my position entirely. The market would not be right for me to trade in for a while. The first ten thousand I made in the bucket shops _I lost because I traded in and out of season, every day, whether or not conditions were right. I wasn’t making that mistake twice._ Also, don’t forget that I had gone broke a little while before because I had seen this break too soon and started selling before it was time. Now when I had a big profit I wanted to cash in so that I could feel I had been right. The rallies had broken me before. I wasn’t going to let the next rally wipe me out. Instead of sitting tight I went to Florida. I love fishing and I needed a rest. I could get both down there. And besides, there are direct wires between Wall Street and Palm Beach.

_IX_

I cruised off the coast of Florida. The fishing was good. I was out of stocks. My mind was easy. I was having a fine time. One day off Palm Beach some friends came alongside in a motor boat. One of them brought a newspaper with him. I hadn’t looked at one in some days and had not felt any desire to see one. I was not interested in any news it might print. But I glanced over the one my friend brought to the yacht, and I saw that the market had had a big rally; ten points and more.

I told my friends that I would go ashore with them. Moderate rallies from time to time were reasonable. But the bear market was not over; and here was Wall Street or the fool public or desperate bull interests disregarding monetary conditions and marking up prices beyond reason or letting somebody else do it. It was too much for me. I simply had to take a look at the market. I didn’t know what I might or might not do. But I knew that my pressing need was the sight of the quotation board.

My brokers, Harding Brothers, had a branch office in Palm Beach. When I walked in I found there a lot of chaps I knew. Most of them were talking bullish. They were of the type that trade on the tape and want quick action. Such traders don’t care to look ahead very far because they don’t need to with their style of play. I told you how I’d got to be known in the New York office as the Boy Plunger. Of course people always magnify a fellow’s winnings and the size of the line he swings. The fellows in the office had heard that I had made a killing in New York on the bear side and they now expected that I again would plunge on the short side. They themselves thought the rally would go to a good deal further, but they rather considered it my duty to fight it.

I had come down to Florida on a fishing trip. I had been under a pretty severe strain and I needed my holiday. But the moment I saw how far the recovery in prices had gone I no longer felt the need of a vacation. I had not thought of just what I was going to do when I came ashore. But now I knew I must sell stocks. I was right, and I must prove it in my old and only way--by saying it with money. To sell the general list would be a proper, prudent, profitable and even patriotic action.

The first thing I saw on the quotation board was that Anaconda was on the point of crossing 300. It had been going up by leaps and bounds and there was apparently an aggressive bull party in it. It was an old trading theory of mine that when a stock crosses _100 or 200 or 300 for the first time the price does not stop at the even figure but goes a good deal higher, so that if you buy it as soon as it crosses the line it is almost certain to show you a profit_. Timid people don’t like to buy a stock at a new high record. But I had the history of such movements to guide me.

Anaconda was only quarter stock--that is, the par of the shares was only twenty-five dollars. It took four hundred shares of it to equal the usual one hundred shares of other stocks, the par value of which was one hundred dollars. I figured that when it crossed 300 it ought to keep on going and probably touch 340 in a jiffy.