Brown returned in a half hour and reported. There was very little stock for sale below $42 a share—a few small lots held by unimportant commission houses. The vendible supply increased at 44, and at 46 “inside stock would come out,” which, translated into plain English, meant that whenever the price of Iowa Midland Railway Company stock rose to $46 per share, directors of the company or close friends of theirs would be found willing to part with their holdings. It was thus evident that the greater part of such stock of the Iowa Midland as the Street was “carrying” speculatively was not for sale at such a price as would be regarded in the light of a great bargain by Mr. John F. Greener, president de facto of the rival Keokuk & Northern Railway, but better known to countless “lambs” and widows and orphans and brother financiers as the Napoleon of the Street.
“Any supporting orders?” piped Greener. Stocks are “supported,” or bought on declines, so that the price shall not go down too much, and above all not too quickly.
“Bagley has orders to buy 300 shares every quarter of a point down until 37 is reached, and then to take 5,000 shares at that figure. He got them direct from Willetts himself.” Bagley was a broker who made a specialty of dealing in Iowa Midland. Willetts was the president of the company.
“Willetts,” squeaked Greener, “was in Council Bluffs this morning. He is to take part in the ceremonies of unveiling the Soldiers’ Monument, which begin at one o’clock—that is, within twenty minutes, allowing for difference in time. He will be out of the reach of the telegraph for the afternoon.”
Brown laughed. “No wonder they are afraid of you.”
“Brown,” said Greener, “start the movement by selling 10,000 shares of Iowa Midland. Divide it up among the boys on the floor. It would be well if the room were frightened by the selling. It is more important for us to get the price down than to put out shorts at high figures. I want that stock down.” If he had merely desired to sell the stock “short” he would have gone about it carefully, to disturb the price as little as possible.
“If you want that I think you’ll get it,” said Brown. As he was going out Mr. Greener squeaked after him: “Keep them guessing, Brown; keep them guessing.”
“That,” mused Mr. John F. Greener, “ought to mean a three-or four-point break in Iowa Midland at the very least, and perhaps we can work through the peg at 37. We’ll see.” By the “peg” he meant the figure at which the supporting orders to buy were heaviest.
A few minutes later the Iowa Midland “post” on the floor of the Stock Exchange was surrounded by a dozen puzzled and apprehensive but gentlemanly brokers. And still a few minutes later the same spot was a seething whirlpool of maniacal humanity. It was appalling, the sight of these gesticulating, yelling, fighting, coat-tearing, fisticuffing brokers—appalling and vulgar, selfish, unpleasant, ungentlemanly but eminently typical. And all that caused the transformation was the fact that Mr. Brown had been seen whispering to Harry Wilson, and Harry Wilson had left him, gone to the Iowa Midland crowd, and sold 1,000 shares at 42⅛ and 42. Then Mr. Brown had been seen speaking with W. G. Carleton in what struck witnesses as being a more or less agitated manner, and later Carleton had sauntered carelessly over to the Iowa Midland precinct, and, after displaying very great indifference about the world in general, but most particularly about the market for Iowa Midland, had sold 1,500 shares to Bagley, the specialist, at 41¾, 41⅝, and 41½. Mr. Brown was now watched by two or three scores of sharp eyes, all having the same expression. And he was observed to look about him apprehensively and then begin to converse with Frank J. Pratt; whereupon Pratt, as fast as his fat legs would carry him, hastened to “Iowa Midland” and sold 2,000 shares at an average price of 41. The observant eyes had by this taken on a new expression—of indecision; but when they beheld Mr. Brown anxiously beckon to his “particular” friend, Dan Simpson, and saw shrill-voiced Dan rush like mad into the increasing crowd and sell 5,000 shares of Iowa Midland, apparently regardless of price, the observant eyes ceased to observe Brown. Activity was transferred to their owners’ throats as they thought to emulate Simpson and the rest of the Brown “whisperees.” Everybody scented danger, especially as the same “whisperees” had not “given up” the name of Brown & Greener as the real sellers, but had sold as though each Brown-talked man was acting for himself—which every other man in the room knew was out of the question, and which, in turn, increased the general uneasiness. It was a confident and yet a mystifying movement. It became more maddeningly perplexing when certain brokers, believed to be “close to the inside,” also began to sell the stock. Everybody started to do likewise. And everybody asked the same question—“What’s the matter?”—and received an avalanche of answers, all different but all unfavorable. One man said it was crop failures, another mentioned divers kinds of bugs, a third asserted it was extensive wash-outs and ruinous landslides, and bankrupting attacks by a socialistic legislature, and receivership probabilities.
Each of these was a good and sufficient reason why Iowa Midland stock should be sold. The comparison is odiously trite, but the growth of an adverse rumor in Wall Street really resembles nothing so much as the traditional snowball rolling down a hillside and becoming larger and larger as it rolls, until it is huge, terrific, with appalling possibilities for evil.