Reminiscences of a Stock Operator

by Edwin Lefevre

I didn’t like quite so much mystery, but I knew that Lucius was friendly and that he must have a good reason for talking the way he did. I wasn’t faring so sumptuously in Chicago that it would break my heart to leave it. At the rate I was trading it would be a long time before I could get together enough money to operate on the old scale.

I came back to New York, not knowing what would happen. Indeed, more than once during the trip I feared nothing at all would happen and that I’d be out my railroad fare and my time. I could not guess that I was about to have the most curious experience of my entire life.

Lucius met me at the station and did not waste any time in telling me that he had sent for me at the urgent request of Mr. Daniel Williamson, of the well-known Stock Exchange house of Williamson & Brown. Mr. Williamson told Lucius to tell me that he had a business proposition to make to me that he was sure I would accept since it would be very profitable for me. Lucius swore he didn’t know what the proposition was. The character of the firm was a guaranty that nothing improper would be demanded of me.

Dan Williamson was the senior member of the firm, which was founded by Egbert Williamson way back in the ’70’s. There was no Brown and hadn’t been one in the firm for years. The house had been, very prominent in Dan’s father’s time and Dan had inherited a considerable fortune and didn’t go after much outside business. They had one customer who was worth a hundred average customers and that was Alvin Marquand, Williamson’s brother-in-law, who in addition to being a director in a dozen banks and trust companies was the president of the great Chesapeake and Atlantic Railroad system. He was the most picturesque personality in the railroad world after James J. Hill, and was the spokesman and dominant member of the powerful banking coterie known as the Fort Dawson gang. He was worth from fifty million to five hundred million dollars, the estimate depending upon the state of the speaker’s liver. When he died they found out that he was worth two hundred and fifty million dollars, all made in Wall Street. So you see he was some customer.

Lucius told me he had just accepted a position with Williamson & Brown—one that was made for him. He was supposed to be a sort of circulating general business getter. The firm was after a general commission business and Lucius had induced Mr. Williamson to open a couple of branch offices, one in one of the big hotels uptown and the other in Chicago. I rather gathered that I was going to be offered a position in the latter place, possibly as office manager, which was something I would not accept. I didn’t jump on Lucius because I thought I’d better wait until the offer was made before I refused it.

Lucius took me into Mr. Williamson’s private office, introduced me to his chief and left the room in a hurry, as though he wished to avoid being called as witness in a case in which he knew both parties. I prepared to listen and then to say no.

Mr. Williamson was very pleasant. He was a thorough gentleman, with polished manners and a kindly smile. I could see that he made friends easily and kept them. Why not? He was healthy and therefore good-humored. He had slathers of money and therefore could not be suspected of sordid motives. These things, together with his education and social training, made it easy for him to be not only polite but friendly, and not only friendly but helpful.

I said nothing. I had nothing to say and, besides, I always let the other man have his say in full before I do any talking. Somebody told me that the late James Stillman, president of the National City Bank—who, by the way, was an intimate friend of Williamson’s—made it his practice to listen in silence, with an impassive face, to anybody who brought a proposition to him. After the man got through Mr. Stillman continued to look at him, as though the man had not finished. So the man, feeling urged to say something more, did so. Simply by looking and listening Stillman often made the man offer terms much more advantageous to the bank than he had meant to offer when he began to speak.

I don’t keep silent just to induce people to offer a better bargain, but because I like to know all the facts of the case. By letting a man have his say in full you are able to decide at once. It is a great time-saver. It averts debates and prolonged discussions that get nowhere. Nearly every business proposition that is brought to me can be settled, as far as my participation in it is concerned, by my saying yes or no. But I cannot say yes or no right off unless I have the complete proposition before me.

Dan Williamson did the talking and I did the listening. He told me he had heard a great deal about my operations in the stock market and how he regretted that I had gone outside of my bailiwick and come a cropper in cotton. Still it was to my bad luck that he owed the pleasure of that interview with me. He thought my forte was the stock market, that I was born for it and that I should not stray from it.